


Give Me One Last Kiss

by pixeldreamer



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anorexia, Anorexic Brendon, Anorexic Ryan, Bisexual Brendon Urie, Bulimia, Chatting & Messaging, Cheating, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Friends to Lovers, Gay Ryan Ross, Halloween, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Online Friendship, Recovery, Running Away, Therapy, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 36,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13565439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixeldreamer/pseuds/pixeldreamer
Summary: Brendon and Ryan are best friends who both have anorexia, but neither of them know that each other have it. They both use Tumblr as an escape to express their want to be skinny through thinspo blogs. Male thinspo blogs aren't exactly common, so it's not too long before they become friends again through their online personas and romance starts between them offscreen.(eating disorder trigger warning)





	1. And We're Bored With Looking Good

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FANFICTION IS NOT MEANT TO ROMANTICIZE EATING DISORDERS IN ANY WAY. THAT SHIT IS AWFUL AND NOBODY SHOULD HAVE TO GO THROUGH AN EATING DISORDER. I AM CURRENTLY GOING THROUGH AN EATING DISORDER AND THIS IS WHAT IS ACCURATE TO ME BUT EVERYONE'S EATING DISORDER IS DIFFERENT.
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY EATING DISORDERS, BECAUSE THAT'S THE WHOLE FOCUS OF THIS FANFIC!!
> 
> Possible triggers include so far, but are not limited to:  
> Mentions of weight, calorie counts, detailed descriptions of skinniness and thinspo, detailed descriptions of fat and body dysmorphia, purging, binging, proana, excessive exercise, desires to be underweight, encouragement of eating disorder behaviors, sex while trying not to hate your own body, etc. If any of these you think will trigger you, please do not read this.
> 
> Unlike most fanfics, this fanfic does NOT include cutting, self-harm, or depression, so you don't have to worry about those if you read this.
> 
> If you think you may have an eating disorder, here is a link to a test: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/screening-tool
> 
> Even if it says you don't have an eating disorder and you think you may, please seek help. The earlier you can recover, the better.
> 
> You can also call, chat online, or email the National Eating Disorder Hotline here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline
> 
> You can search for treatment here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-treatment/treatment-and-support-groups
> 
> These links will be at the beginning of each chapter. Again, if this fanfic triggers you at any time, please don't read it. Please seek recovery if you are suffering from an eating disorder.
> 
> oh also just realized I should put this slang here:  
> sw-starting weight  
> cw-current weight  
> ugw-ultimate goal weight  
> gw-goal weight

Ryan balances the 450 calorie plate of pancakes on the edge of his cluttered desk, thick maple syrup oozing into the food as his mom closes the door to his bedroom. She thinks he has to study for a test, and so she stays hidden in the dark along with everyone, away from the light that shines on his scale as it drops rapidly and never rapidly enough. 160, 159, 158, 132.

The curtains remain drawn as Ryan straightens out his button-down shirt and smoothes down his bangs in the long mirror that hangs next to his guitar. He tries to focus on anything but his body, anything but that. He doesn’t need a reminder of all the food he ate last night with Spencer after they were done studying. There was no way he could have turned down 560 calories of weed brownies, especially after Spencer had went through all the trouble of baking and hiding them from his parents. 

He succumbs to the feeling, and flicks on the light switch. He pulls up his shirt, and looks down. His ribs stick out, but not enough. Never enough. His stomach looks bloated, but that’s always his excuse. It’s just the fat he knows is there but everyone else denies. Pulling down the collar of his shirt, he looks at the tendons in his neck and collarbones. The skin hasn’t sunken in enough, his neck isn’t thin enough to pair perfectly with his new scarf he bought just to motivate him to shed some more fat.

Ryan takes a step on the scale. One pound more than yesterday, for a grand whopping total of 133 pounds. Unfortunately for the pancakes, their destination is the toilet bowl, not a warm and growling belly, within the minute as Ryan exits his room and tiptoes across the hall.

He returns to his computer to get back onto Tumblr to scroll through emaciated skeletons and people weeping about vanity sizing, and finds a new message in his inbox.

**110ordeath: hey!**

Ryan’s fingers fly across the keyboard, bones protruding out as they move.

**xxskinnyboy: hi :)**  
**110ordeath: I haven't found any other male thinspo blogs yet, want to be friends?**  
**xxskinnyboy: yea  
**110ordeath: what’s your stats** **

********

Ryan glances back over at his scale behind him as he types. If only he hadn't eaten those brownies, he would have one less pound to type. It’ll be gone by tomorrow if today goes well, he knows, but he feels that he will never learn to control himself. It’s just one pound, but the burden weighs him down like a hundred. He feels the fat creeping through his veins, blood becoming saturated with sugar. It feels like it’ll be an infinity before all the disgusting fat sitting on his thighs and belly and arms and hips will be no more.

**xxskinnyboy: 5’11, sw 180, cw 133, ugw 115. You?**  
**110ordeath: 5’9, sw 161, cw 128, ugw 110**  
**xxskinnyboy: wow, we’re pretty close in weight!**  
**110ordeath: yea, except i’m shorter so I’m way fatter.**  
**xxskinnyboy: no way! I bet with that height and weight you look great  
**110ordeath: fine, i’ll prove it. I’ll send you my body check pic from yesterday (picture attached)** **

********

Ryan opened the picture and stared at the picture of his newfound friend’s body that went from his neck to the floor. He looked like a sculpture, a Greek study of physique, and he found his mouth gaping open as he stared at 110ordeath’s composure, posing leaning against the backdrop of cream-colored wall in just boxer shorts.

**xxskinnyboy: you’re so skinny! It’s honestly so incredible how you look**  
**110ordeath: haha just wait until i’m 110 pounds**  
**110ordeath: gotta go to school now, see you later :)**  
**xxskinnyboy: haha i should get going too, talk to you later tonight?  
**110ordeath: you can bet on it ;)** **

********

Ryan logged off the computer, not being able to tell if his heart was beating slightly faster from the lack of food or the wink, and sped out the door to the bus stop.

****

 

****

He steers clear of the sugar skulls being handed out by the Spanish club and makes his way down to the cafeteria to meet Spencer and Brendon. He sits across from Spencer at the table, who is chowing down on a bagel laden with cream cheese and melting butter pouring over the table. Ryan wants to steal it for himself, to lick the butter off the bagel, and then all of the fatty cream cheese, and then shove the whole warm and toasted bagel in his mouth with no cares whether he chokes on it.

****

He doesn't do that. He is, however, very tempted by the fresh aroma.

****

“Hey, Ryan.” Spencer greets between bites.

****

“Hi.” Ryan says, plopping down his backpack. “How's the bagel?”

****

“Delicious.” Spencer says after he finishes chewing a bite. “Want the rest?”

****

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Already ate.”

****

“You sure?” Spencer asks, as Brendon heads over.

****

“Positive. They were some filling pancakes.”

****

“Hey, dudes.” Brendon sits down next to Ryan, patting his shoulder. “Everybody scream, it’s almost Halloween!”

****

“You’ve been saying that for the whole week.” Spencer sighs. “Want the rest of my bagel?”

****

“No thanks.” Brendon says. “Breakfast makes me nauseous.”

****

“Only because you never eat it.” Spencer sighs. “Fine, fine, the option to let the bagel go to waste is unanimous, I see.”

****

Ryan stares intently at the bagel. He keeps denying his hunger in his head. He doesn't need it. Unnecessary.

****

The bagel falls in, nestling next to a discarded orange juice and a styrofoam tray coated in muffin crumbs.

****

 

****

When Ryan and Brendon both get off the bus, they hurry away to their houses.

****

“You're in a rush.” Ryan comments, as they run side-by-side.

****

“I have a ton of homework.” Brendon says. “You're in a hurry, too.”

****

“I need to help out with chores.” Ryan lies. None of them care to question the other further about their blatantly thinly-masked lies, so they continue on.

****

“See you later, Ry.” Brendon turns to walk down his lawn, and Ryan walks a few more steps to get onto his own lawn.

****

“See you!” Ryan waves, as they both go into their separate homes.

****

Brendon throws down his backpack once he gets into his room, tackles the bed, and flips open his laptop.

****

**Username: 110ordeath  
Password: ************

****

**Sign in**

****

He clicks, glancing out of the window to his right that faces Ryan’s house. If he craned his neck out of the window, he would see Ryan’s bedroom window far off. They both had basically grown up together, waving to each other out of their windows and both being basked when trying to sleep by illuminating light coming the restless other on numerous nights. Brendon is too tired to get up and look, so instead he tries to remain content with just seeing the bricks of the house that through its walls holds George Ryan Ross.

****


	2. It Hurts Until It Stops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just so nobody gets confused, yes, this chapter takes place in the past. Whenever I use past tense instead of present tense in this fanfic that means it happened in the past and it's like a backstory, which there will be a lot of in the fanfic)
> 
> If this fanfic triggers you:
> 
> If you think you may have an eating disorder, here is a link to a test: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/screening-tool
> 
> Even if it says you don't have an eating disorder and you think you may, please seek help. The earlier you can recover, the better.
> 
> You can also call, chat online, or email the National Eating Disorder Hotline here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline
> 
> You can search for treatment here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-treatment/treatment-and-support-groups

The shrinking had begun freshman year, in their graduation-mandatory health class. They were required to research a mental illness, and Ryan’s slip of paper pulled out of the teacher’s gaudy hat read _anorexia_. That night, he logged onto the computer and started. One of the articles he read contained in its confines the word _thinspo_ , and he immediately went onto tumblr to look it up.

Bones, starvation, skeletons, skinny, skinny, skinny. The girls in the pictures were all things that he wasn’t. He didn’t have the same figure as a girl, so he slowed his scrolling, preparing to head to another website when he saw it. Male thinspo.

A male model, skin and bones, wearing a sweater that seemed to be a small size but too baggy on him. He had a sharp, defined jawline and cheekbones, the exact image of perfection that gave Ryan a jolting realization: that’s who he needs to be. Looking down at his pudgy stomach and massive legs, he felt like all of a sudden his ordinary amount of fat was crushing the bed and world underneath him.

He wanted spindly fingers wrapped around a cup of green tea, for everyone to poke his non-existent hip bones and tell him to take a second helping of dessert, for people to marvel as he told a friend to get him an even smaller size when he stepped out of the dressing room and then his friend returning fruitless only to say, _there’s nothing smaller, Ryan_. 

The side effects written down in his notes had a weak, thinning rope wrapped around his waist. _Hair loss, dehydration, fainting, fatigue, brittle nails, slow heart rate, low blood pressure, osteoporosis, bruising_. However, Ryan denied the unhealthiness of it all. He could deal with fatigue and bruising. He forced himself into a fantasy of well-being. It was supposed to be only temporary, when he was skinny he would stop. Best of all, his long-entertained idea of being attractive to Brendon would be finally reality.

And thus, the rope holding him back snapped, and he ignored the beckoning scent of dinner from downstairs, using the excuse of schoolwork and the unkept promise to eat leftovers later.

 

A few months later, Brendon noticed the weight change after summer, when he had been unable to see Ryan due to Ryan’s annual family vacation to some beach-filled destination in South Europe.

He had came over to Ryan’s as soon as he got the call that he was done unpacking, and saw suddenly how Ryan drooped with exhaustion and malnutrition when the front door was opened.

“Wow, Ryan, you look like shit. Still got jet lag?”

“You bet.” Ryan said. “I feel dead.”

“Are you sure there’s no maggots eating your skin away?” Brendon teased.

“Very sure.” Ryan said.

“How much weight did you lose in Crete?”

“I don’t know.” His Airbnb unfortunately had no scale, and Ryan was too scared to use his limited knowledge of Greek to venture into a store to buy one.

“Go look!” Brendon pressured, and Ryan knew he wouldn’t be able to escape his friend’s persistent nagging if he disagreed.

Ryan trudged up the stairs, and returned later, giddy and filled with energy. He opened his mouth to say it, _13 pounds_ , an astonishing feat among all the food he felt like he had eaten and days spent sleeping in instead of jogging, but he remembered Brendon wasn’t part of the thinspo community. He wouldn’t understand.

“Only 2 pounds.” Ryan said. “We did lots of walking. I’m fine, really.”

“Really?” Brendon asked. “Impressive, Ross, considering you’re literally made out of tzatziki.”

“What? You jealous?” Ryan smirked.

“No way.”

“You’d never be able to lose 2 pounds in one month, you hog.”

Brendon laughed, but the words stung and reverberated through the fat that jiggled on his stomach. “You’re right. It’d only be one week to lose 2 pounds.”

“Really?” Ryan raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Prove it to me, then. By the end of the first week of school, you better be 2 pounds less fat.”

“You can bet on it.”

Ryan ushered Brendon up to the cheap bathroom scale, and Brendon stood on it. It had been quite a few months since his last doctor appointment, and the weight shocked him. 161 pounds, 10 pounds more than he had been in June. All of those pizzas and potato chips oozing into his bloodstream had messed him up.

He wouldn’t lose 2 pounds. He promised himself he would lose 5, determination flooding into his veins as he stepped off the scale.

Meanwhile, Ryan was ready to hear of Brendon’s fails. One more slice of cake or an extra serving of bacon, it all added up and he sadistically couldn’t wait for Brendon to call him crying and admit defeat after smothering the contents of his entire fridge with his stomach. It would only make Ryan feel more strong, and Brendon would be impressed with Ryan’s accomplishments.

When Brendon got home, he started searching Google, and through the haze of fad diets and exercise positions, he reached a tumblr blog that promised him he would lose 5 within a few days.

The hunger as he fasted for 48 hours and then subsisted on about 200 calories a day wreaked havoc on his body. He couldn’t pay attention during his classes because his mind only thought of stuffed crust pizza and mild chicken wings. His legs felt like glass at the end of gym class and his head was lighter than a feather. Restraining himself from sugar-coated cereal in substitution for an orange was a difficult task, and he had to turn down smoking weed with Spencer and Ryan to avoid the munchies.

But after another fast for 36 hours, 6 minutes, it was worth it to see the surprise and admiration on his buddy’s face when Ryan’s scale said he had lost 6.8 pounds whilst his stomach begged him to stop being so stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope all of you like this chapter, next chapter will be in present tense so don't worry 'bout that


	3. But My Favorite Place Is The Warm Embrace Of Holding Your Hair Back In A Bathroom Stall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this fanfic triggers you:
> 
> If you think you may have an eating disorder, here is a link to a test: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/screening-tool
> 
> Even if it says you don't have an eating disorder and you think you may, please seek help. The earlier you can recover, the better.
> 
> You can also call, chat online, or email the National Eating Disorder Hotline here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline
> 
> You can search for treatment here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-treatment/treatment-and-support-groups

Ryan is running late to school after staying up all night chatting to 110ordeath, and his mom shoves a plastic sandwich bag filled with slightly stale cereal at him before he leaves. At the bus stop, Ryan throws each one individually into the storm drain, the satisfying _plink_ in the rainwater ringing in his ears and registering as another calorie successfully avoided. When he hears the roar of the bus around the corner, he dumps the rest of the loops of cereal and gets on, Brendon running behind him, out of breath for the bus.

 

Brendon’s stomach gnaws at him as Spencer asks him if he wants to go to a cool new cafe downtown after school, maybe with _Ryan_ , which does convince him to go as Spencer does know Brendon has a longing for the Ross. The calories counted on the abacus inside his head click together. If he skips his lunch and doesn’t eat dinner, maybe he could have half a salad to keep under today’s calorie limit of 300.

Ryan, meanwhile, isn’t exactly keen on the idea, but supposes he could avoid ordering anything on the excuse he had no money, and he decides to go along.

 

Spencer leads Ryan and Brendon into the cafe, a hipster and maybe pricey but delicious place downtown lined with brick and has blue-haired baristas and a cat sitting in the window next to a neon sign.

It’s just Brendon’s luck as they stand in line; no salads. Instead, there’s dozens of donuts, bagels, muffins, and other sweet treats lined up behind the glass case and a menu filled with coffees and smoothies and eccentric tea flavors.

They tell Spencer they’re going to claim a table and to just buy Brendon a water and that Ryan doesn’t want anything (the menu doesn’t list any calories). They sit at the table close to the window cat that could possibly be a health code violation, setting down their jackets and then looking out at the pedestrians and orange autumn leaves.

“This feels really aesthetic.” Ryan says. “Seriously, I feel like a tumblr blogger.”

“What would you even post on your tumblr blog, anyway?” Brendon asks.

 _You don’t even want to know what I post_ , Ryan thinks, but instead, he says, “Maybe I’d be one of those polyglot nerds. The whole langblr thing.”

“Huh, I’d peg you for a model guy. Like the type that posts fashion and shit.” Brendon says, resting his chin on his hands. “You could definitely do that. You’re gorgeous, and skinny. You’d totally be reblogged by all those thinspo blogs.”

“Thinspo?” Ryan asks, a small amount of panic arising that Brendon knows the tag.

“Yeah. Those teenage girls who…” Brendon bites his lip, trying to think of the right words to say to make it sound like he’s not part of it. “the girls who glorify anorexia. They call themselves ‘proana’.”

“That sounds really unhealthy.” Ryan says. Brendon agrees with a slight nod. “Um… just curious, how do you know about that?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I obviously don’t look at that.” If Brendon was Pinocchio, his nose would have impaled Ryan. “It’s everywhere. Um, sad, I guess. Every once in a while you can’t help but run into it.”

“What type of tumblr blog do you have, anyway?” Ryan asks. Brendon is about to blurt out a suspiciously-stupid joking theme like golfer’s butts or Samoan tourism, but Spencer sets down a tray of mugs onto the table. They’re both unfortunate in their endeavors of not eating. A bottle of water and three mugs, not one, like it should be.

“Here you guys go.” Spencer sits, and hands Brendon and Ryan their mugs, and Brendon his water. “I didn’t want you guys to be jealous of my coffee, so I bought you hot chocolate.”

“Oh, Spencer, you didn’t have to.” Brendon grits his teeth, but hides it with a smile.

“Yeah, you really didn’t have to.” Ryan agrees.

“Well, that’s what friends are for! Drink up!” Spencer says.

Ryan checks the notifications on his phone. Brendon pretends to be having a staring contest with the Persian cat in the window. Spencer is a little confused that they haven’t tried the hot chocolate yet but not suspecting anything, and lifts his cup of coffee to his lips to slurp.

After a few minutes, the whipped cream is starting to melt into the hot chocolate. Brendon is petting the fluffy cat, and Ryan is trying to get a good streak photo for snapchat.

“So, um, how’s your hot chocolate?” Spencer asks.

Brendon and Ryan’s heads snap up, and they apologetically gasp lightly.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

“Sorry, I’ll take a sip right now.”

Brendon drinks it, and Ryan does too after upkeeping his snapchat streak. A small spot of whipped cream gets on Ryan’s nose that Brendon wipes off with his finger and they both smile. The trio are chatting, laughing, drinking like a normal group of friends.

Inside, Ryan is mentally retching at the thought of the calories. Brendon can suddenly feel every inch of fat on his jaw, his stomach, his legs, his arms. Spencer is blissfully unaware that anything is wrong with his friends and is trying to remember if he has a work shift tomorrow.

Afterward, Brendon attempts to purge for the first time in the empty bathroom. Ryan chugs water at home, filling up a glass over and over with tap water to frantically flush the hot chocolate out.

**xxskinnyboy: today wasn’t a good day :(**  
**110ordeath: it wasn’t for me, either**  
**xxskinnyboy: tell me about yours first**  
**110ordeath: I tried to purge for the first time. I drank something and it tasted so delicious, and I couldn’t stop. But I couldn’t purge. I was only able to spit out a little bit.**  
**xxskinnyboy: you shouldn’t purge! It’s unhealthy!**  
**110ordeath: I know, I know**  
**110ordeath: I probably won’t again, my throat kinda hurts**  
**xxskinnyboy: good**  
**xxskinnyboy: we’re anorexic, not bulimic, we can do this. we can be pure and empty**  
**110ordeath: solid yeet to that**  
**xxskinnyboy: solid yeet?**  
**110ordeath: don’t question the holiness of vine**  
**110ordeath: so tell me about your day**  
**xxskinnyboy: I drank something I shouldn’t have too**  
**xxskinnyboy: hot chocolate to be exact**  
**110ordeath: that fruit the snake tried to make eve eat WHO I only know hot chocolate**  
**110ordeath: sorry please continue blame my adhd**  
**xxskinnyboy: lol it’s okay**  
**xxskinnyboy: so after I got home I chugged all this fucking agua**  
**110ordeath: wOW this boi is bilingual too?? sExY**  
**xxskinnyboy: i can assure you i am not bilingual or sexy**  
**110ordeath: don’t lie your bodycheck pics are my thinspo**  
**xxskinnyboy: wow thanks :)**  
**xxskinnyboy: so anyways long story short I drank all this water in a stupid panic to like get out more calories or something idk I’m only a high school student I know nothing about nutrition or the digestive system if I did I wouldn’t be here**  
**xxskinnyboy: but anyways long story short I had to pee three times in the last hour and my stomach is bloated af**  
**110ordeath: oof**  
**110ordeath: r.i.p. xxskinnyboy**  
**xxskinnyboy: r.i.p. lmao**  
**110ordeath: (roblox oof) my mom is calling me down for dinner**  
**xxskinnyboy: oof**  
**xxskinnyboy: r.i.p.**  
**110ordeath: I think it’s mostly zucchini noodles though, mom’s trying to cut down on carbs so yeet**  
**xxskinnyboy: yeet!! lucky dude, we travel all the time and my mom makes all this fatty foreign food**  
**xxskinnyboy: no wonder I’m a fatass, we went to Israel once during Hanukkah and for weeks my mom made latkes and sufganiyot**  
**110ordeath: OOF i would die CALORIE OVERLOAD**  
**110ordeath: I salute you**  
**110ordeath: anyways what’s latkes and sufganiyot**  
**xxskinnyboy: holy fuck it’s delicious**  
**xxskinnyboy: when you hit your ugw you gotta try some. Jewish food is A+**  
**110ordeath: YUM**  
**110ordeath: anyways I gotta dash so ttyl!**  
**xxskinnyboy: ttyl.**  


Brendon logs off and goes downstairs for dinner, and Ryan returns to his assigned reading of Romeo and Juliet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to incorporate some jewish food in their chatting because i'm jewish and our food is A++++
> 
> next chapter will be very spoopy. much halloween. I started this fanfic in October and only really started publishing and working on it more now so it's a little behind on the seasons.
> 
> Happy early Valentine's Day!


	4. Dress Me Up and Watch Me Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this fanfic triggers you:
> 
> If you think you may have an eating disorder, here is a link to a test: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/screening-tool
> 
> Even if it says you don't have an eating disorder and you think you may, please seek help. The earlier you can recover, the better.
> 
> You can also call, chat online, or email the National Eating Disorder Hotline here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline
> 
> You can search for treatment here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-treatment/treatment-and-support-groups

“Any ideas for Halloween?” Spencer asks.

“No.” Ryan pokes at the free jello the cafeteria had been giving out. “Spencer, you want my jello?”

“No, it’s the gross sugar-free stuff.” Spencer said.

“Brendon?”

“Same answer as Spencer.” Brendon says. “Ryan, you used to love this cheap shit.”

“Until I realized it was cheap shit.” Ryan chucks it into a nearby trash can.

“Do you guys even ever eat lunch?” Spencer asks.

“I eat a huge breakfast.” Brendon says.

“Me too. Sausages, pancakes, scrambled eggs, muffins, all that.” Ryan remembers fondly his family’s traditionally overindulgent Christmas breakfast, and as a child how he would stuff himself until he was bursting. The previous year, he had stacked his plate up high with fruit and oranges and claimed he was started a new year’s resolution of being healthy early, and then salivated over the sweet smell of crepes and told himself he would treat himself at the next Christmas breakfast when he would be at his goal weight.

“Okay, so what are we doing for Halloween?” Spencer asks.

“Anyone been invited to a party?” Brendon asks. Ryan and Spencer shake their heads. “Dallon is kinda having a party on Halloween. Not really a party. Just a small gathering of teens smoking weed and accidentally spilling beer on their costumes.”

“Sounds like fun.” Spencer says. “Let’s do that.”

“Agreed.” Ryan nods. “What’s you guys’ costumes gonna be?”

“Me and my girlfriend are going as zombies.” Spencer says. “It’s simple enough. Just wear some old, torn clothes and douse them in fake blood, and paint your face green. Easy and cheap as fuck.”

“Spencer the DIY master!” Brendon claps. “I haven’t decided on my costume yet. I’ll just wear whatever looks cool at the costume store.” He really means whatever costume makes him look not fat when he tries it on. “What about you, Ryan?”

“I’m still unsure.” Ryan says. “Want to go shopping together, Brendon?”

“Sure!” Brendon says. He’s a little nervous because he doesn’t want Ryan to see him trying on costumes that make him look disgusting, but that’s okay. He’ll just fast beforehand. Maybe 24 hours, 30 preferable.

“How about we go tomorrow?” Ryan asks.

“Sure!” Brendon says. Tonight, he’ll just have to skip his mom’s stir fry with cauliflower rice as a substitute for normal rice. “I’m in.”

“I got to grab some face paint, too, so I’ll tag along.” Spencer says.

 

Spencer drives them all to the Spirit Halloween store in his used Toyota, which has opened up this year in the former chain drug store that went out of business when they were in middle school. Spencer drifts over to the makeup aisle, while Brendon and Ryan skim through the costumes. Both of them secretly want something that’ll look sexy to the other, although they’re struggling to find something they would feel at least a little bit confident trying on. They’re having fun, nevertheless, and hiding their rapidly-palpitating heart beats while laughing at some of the ridiculous costumes and criticizing the culturally-insensitive ones.

It feels nice, like a domestic date activity. If their eating disorders weren’t getting in the way, it would be even better without themselves internally trying to decide which costumes would make them look bulky or slim.

Eventually, they each pick out some costumes. Brendon is holding 5 as they head to the dressing room. Ryan had narrowed it down to 2.

Immediately, 3 of Brendon’s costumes that he tries on are eliminated. They fit fine, and thankfully he’s knows he’s gone down a size since last Halloween, but Brendon feels as if they don’t make him look sexy or skinny enough like he must be for Ryan. As he sets those in the discard pile, he begins to remember his weight. This morning, he weighed 125 pounds, and he has eaten a small serving of fruit so he wouldn’t get too dizzy while shopping. Halloween is just a week away, and Brendon figures that if he restricts enough, he could possibly lose a few more pounds before the party. He figures he’ll probably get the munchies smoking weed during the party and drink alcohol which will only add up more calories, so he begins to contemplate how many calories he should restrict himself to per day until Halloween.

“Brendon?” Ryan asks. “Want to see my costume?”

“Sure.” Brendon quickly pulls up his costume, and then opens the curtain to see Ryan in front of him. Ryan is wearing a vampire costume, but it looks looser than it should be. “That looks amazing, Ryan! You might need a smaller size, though.”

“Really? This is a size Small.” Ryan says, looking down and grabbing the masses of fabric with his hands. Ryan turns around to pick up the package and looks at it. “Yeah, this is the smallest size.”

“It’s ok, you can just use some safety pins around the waist.” Brendon suggests. “Otherwise, you look absolutely dashing.”

“Really?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah.” Brendon steps forward, and pushes back Ryan’s bangs. “You should definitely slick back your hair, too. That would look even better. And with some fangs and red eye lenses, oh boy, you’ll really be getting all the boys.”

“You think so?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah. It’s a sexy costume.” Brendon admits, and Ryan’s heart leaps. This is the costume Ryan _has_ to wear, now. Screw the stupid crayon costume that only looked decent in the mirror. Ryan Ross is going to dress up as the sexiest damn vampire that Brendon Urie has ever seen.

“Thanks.” Ryan says bashfully. Screw the pirate costume he tried on before, because the loose size-small vampire costume enhances his skinniness and also is according to his crush, ‘sexy’. “That costume looks really good on you, too.”

“Oh, this?” Brendon turns around to look in his dressing room mirror, which he hasn’t had a chance to do until now. He’s wearing a costume that’s supposed to be a medieval executioner. It’s an ominous black tunic, with a hood on the back, arm cuffs, and a simple belt. It’s a one-size-fits-all, so it hangs loosely on him and the short and choppy sleeves are wide and look flared around his twig-slim arms.

Brendon pulls up the hood over his hair, and Ryan smiles. Underneath it, Brendon looks dark and mysterious. The shadows caused by the hood bring out his cheekbones and jawline, and the shade only emphasizes his intoxicating deep brown eyes. His pronounced neck bones stick out as he speaks with his lips, which Ryan has always thought looked gorgeously plump like a model.

“So, how does it look?” Brendon asks, and Ryan realizes, shit, he’s been staring at his features a little bit intensely, more intense than a friend would.

“It looks great!” Ryan exclaims, glancing back up to his eyes. “You look amazing. It really gives off that whole mysterious vibe, you know?”

“Thanks.” Brendon pulls down the hood, the bones that stick out prominently in his hand stretching through the skin. Brendon was almost a walking thinspo himself, a mirror image of Ryan’s idea of perfection. “Yeah, I guess I’ll get this one.”

Ryan watches as Brendon saunters into his dressing room, admiring the way his toothpick legs move without any hint of the jiggle of fat, before he pulls back the curtain, obscuring them.

After they buy their costumes, they wait outside the store in silent mutual agreement, as both of them are both internally thinking of the benefits of the cold. Their jackets are not zipped up all the way, and they both bristle when a chilly gust of wind breezes past, but they both know their bodies are burning a few more calories making heat as they sit on the frigid brick and lean against the storefront window panes whilst they share a pair of earbuds.

Spencer comes out with his purchase. “I was afraid you guys ditched me! Why are you waiting out in the cold? You guys look freezing.”

“We could never ditch you, Spence.” Brendon says, managing to skillfully maneuver around the topic of why they were insane enough to be outside. “After all, you’re the only friend with a car.”

“I feel so hurt only to just be a chauffeur to you.” Spencer feigns. “Anyways, look at all this makeup I found.”

He opens up the bag to Brendon and Ryan. It’s filled with half a dozen fake wounds and a gray-and-green zombie makeup palette.

“Ugh, you’re gonna look disgusting, Spencer.” Ryan winces. “It’s just a small hang out, not infiltrating the set of The Walking Dead.”

“You’re just jealous you won’t look as great as me.” Spencer says. “What are you guys, anyway?”

Brendon holds up his bag, and says, “I’m a medieval executioner. Ryan is gonna be a hot vampire.”

“Yeah, you won’t beat me at all.” Spencer says. “Linda and I are gonna eat your brains out.”

“How many calories do you think are in brains?” Ryan asks suddenly. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, is that normal for a non-disordered person to ask?_ , he thinks, _what if I’ve just given it away? Ugh I’m so dumb-_

“Fuck, I’m researching that now!” Brendon exclaims, pulling out his phone. “Siri, how many calories are in a human brain?”

“Oh, come on, that’s gross.” Spencer says. Ryan and Brendon glare at the bag filled with zombie cosmetics.

“Pot calling the kettle black, Spence.” Ryan scoffs.

“1,930 calories!” Brendon says. “Damn, I feel bad for all the anorexic zombies out there.”

“That’s so many!” Ryan says.

“How many does the average person need in a day, anyways?” Spencer asks.

Brendon and Ryan bewilderedly look at him, as if he should know, but then remember that _holy shit_ , normal people don’t give a fuck about calories.

“2,000.” Ryan answers, shamefully looking away and down at the concrete sidewalk. Brendon quickly puts on a facade of caloric innocence, and his puzzled expression towards Spencer changed to neutral. Both of them are eating less than half of that amount, letting their stomachs growl and growl at them constantly for days on end.

“Oh.” Spencer doesn’t notice. “Anyways, all this calorie talk is making me hungry. Where should we go to eat dinner?”

“We’re eating dinner together?” Ryan and Brendon both ask in sync. Panic floods their thoughts, with calorie counts of all the restaurant menus they know being recited, excuses being searched for.

“Yeah. It’s okay if you guys don’t have enough money, I get my work paycheck soon so I’ll pay.” Spencer offers.

“Oh, that would be amazing.” Ryan says. His stomach is growling, and even though he hasn’t in months, he desperately wants to eat a huge-ass meal and purge it. “Brendon, you in?”

His stomach is also begging for sustenance, but he reminds himself to stay strong and that he must order the lowest calorie option, no matter what. “Yeah, sounds great. I don’t care where we eat, where do you want to go?”

Spencer and Brendon both look at Ryan. _Fuck_. A heavy troll has been metaphorically placed on his shoulders, ready to slap him if he doesn’t answer the riddle to let him cross the bridge.

“I haven’t been to Wendy’s in awhile.” Ryan finally says. The sting travels throughout his body, and the troll grows heavier on him as it transforms into a mound of bricks.

 

Spencer has the 4 for $4 deal, which consists of a junior cheeseburger, a small fries, 4-piece chicken nuggets, and coca-cola. Brendon has a water and a garden side salad. Ryan has a junior-sized vanilla frosty and matching junior-sized fries to dip into it.

Aka, Spencer is chomping down 1,000 calories. Brendon is picking at his 260 calories. Ryan contemplates each and every fry that he dips into the frosty and eats and is always hesitant picking one up, but he will end up with 420 calories if he can even eat the whole meal.

While they masticate, Ryan feels a vibration in his pocket from his smartphone. It’s a notification for the Tumblr app, and 110ordeath has messaged him. Everyone else has taken to texting on their phones, so Ryan responds.

**110ordeath: I’m eating out with my friends. Everyone else has got such indulgent looking food and I’m here just rearranging a goddamn salad.**  
 **xxskinnyboy: ugh I feel you. I’m eating out with my friends right now too. I want to purge so bad but I’ll probably just get on the elliptical when I get home and watch music videos until I burn it all off cuz my teeth are much too beautiful (flips hair).**  
 **110ordeath: TRUE, YOU FAB. how many cal you eating?**  
 **xxskinnyboy: 420**  
 **110ordeath: bLaZe It**  
 **110ordeath: sorry I had to make a weed joke**  
 **xxskinnyboy: lMaO**  
 **xxskinnyboy: we both have amazing humor**  
 **110ordeath: PREACH**  
 **110ordeath: anyways this salad is too many calories for some goddamn lettuce any advice on how I can not eat it**  
 **xxskinnyboy: say it tastes gross and throw it out**  
 **110ordeath: I can’t my friend bought it for me**  
 **xxskinnyboy: maybe offer it to your friend?**  
 **110ordeath: k I’ll try that**  
Ryan sets down his phone as he awaits a reply, taking another french fry and timidly dipping it into his frosty.

“Hey, Spencer, want to try my salad?” 

Ryan freezes, and his head jerks up from staring at his meal to being wide-eyed as Brendon persuades Spencer to try his side salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well Ryan knows Brendon is his proana buddy I guess now... >:)
> 
> also it's almost halloween and i'm so excited. don't you dare tell me it's february, if it's halloween in this fanfic that's a good enough excuse to be spoopy
> 
> and i have no idea why a random troll metaphor was a good idea, but i'm leaving it in there so i can pretend i can actually write like a real author and use symbolism


	5. I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

Right after Brendon won the bet, he had binge-eaten for the first time.

When he entered Ryan’s kitchen and had offered him a bag of chips to celebrate, suddenly his stomach was the one pushing his rationality out of the way, slamming buttons and yanking levers. The hunger had dimmed after the first 12 hours of starving and he could barely feel it aside from some occurrences of short-lived dizziness and blanking out while his teachers explained Hammurabi’s Code, but suddenly he had yearned to taste the salt on his tongue.

He gobbled down the whole bag, and it did fill him up quite a bit, but then Brendon needed more. Ryan had been shocked that he devoured the whole bag of potato chips, but gave him a container of cookies, as he thought the less food nagging at him from the pantry, the better. Brendon ate most of the cookies, and then minutes later Ryan’s mom had brought them blizzards from Dairy Queen when she arrived home from work, of which Brendon ate his and Ryan’s while watching Netflix.

Once Brendon’s ferocious appetite had been curbed, he felt immediate shame and regret. He had just reversed everything he had worked for, and even though he had accomplished his goal of winning the bet, he still felt like more had to be done. His stomach was no longer prodding him with a spiked sword to binge but now switching sides and whining it was too full, sloshing around at every slight movement.

He vowed to always be in control. Brendon Urie would never let himself binge again. When he had stood up to get Ryan a Diet Coke, he felt like dying then and there as he could feel the fat forming from the sustenance as it had to begun to bubble up to crush his poor legs.

 

Spencer takes Brendon’s salad eagerly after a bite of ranch-drenched lettuce. Ryan is astonished, but he reasons that coincidences are always possible and neverending. Brendon and 110ordeath were both eating salads, both offering it to their friends successfully that had bought it for them. That doesn’t necessarily mean they were the same person.

Then again, Ryan doesn’t know much about 110ordeath. He doesn’t know 110ordeath’s place of residence, or even his first name. However, Brendon doesn’t seem like the anorexic type to Ryan. Ryan has known him forever, and he thinks that Brendon is too strong and slightly overconfident to be susceptible to anorexia’s clutches.

Ryan dismisses his suspicions as paranoia. He _knows_ Brendon, and Brendon cannot be 110ordeath. Yes, they’re similar, but Ryan can’t let it be reality. He doesn’t want his own best friend and crush that he actually knows and loves to go through the same struggles he does. It just simply could never happen, it’s forbidden in his mind even though his thoughts have no power over verisimilitude.

Yet, it is playing out in front of Ryan’s eyes, but he refuses to see that 110ordeath is right there, in front of him when he receives the message from him that it worked.

 

Brendon doesn’t succeed in fasting before the party. He feasts on a whole carton of strawberries and a few oranges, which admittingly isn’t the worst of binges he’s had, but only because his mom has cleansed the kitchen of unhealthy food on her low-carb diet, and he still regrets that he forgot to count the strawberries so his calorie count will be far less accurate. 

Ryan, meanwhile, does well, and he’s only had a bite of a granola bar. He feels like he is floating, just as light as he felt when he floated in the salty Dead Sea and just as light when he was a boney kid leaping from tree branch to tree branch like a bird. His head is light, too, and his mind is clouded with a thin mist. His vision does start to black out and then suddenly flash back a few times when he gets up, but he figures he’ll be okay if he has a small snack before he leaves. He’s lost a pound since they went to the Halloween store, and he dearly hopes he won’t regret consuming a calorie-heavy beer or two.

Meanwhile, Brendon feels like he has been thrown into a ditch in which the dirt keeps being displaced under him and send him lower and lower. The light is so far away now, and he thinks it’s his binge that sent him here, to this dreary space.

It isn’t.

 

Spencer waits outside Brendon’s house in his car, as the day meets the night, tapping on the wheel to the beat of a song on the radio. Ryan sits in the seat beside him, anxiously wrapping his hands around his own wrists again and again just to reassure himself they’re boney enough for Brendon to see. He runs his fingers under his chin, too, tilting his head down and up to make sure he can’t feel too much fat gathering under when he crooks his head downward any way in the slightest bit. He stayed true to his word of eating before the party and he ate an apple and a rice cake. The dizziness has become far less frequent, but he still has a granola bar in his pocket just in case the snack and future alcohol doesn’t sustain him.

“So, Ryan,” Spencer turns down the volume of the music just a bit. He thinks he may as well talk to Ryan, since Brendon is taking so long. “-are there any cute guys you’re looking forward to seeing at the party? I heard our buddy from middle school is coming. He’s become quite the looker.”

“Jon Walker?” Ryan asks. “I thought he moved back to Chicago.”

“Yeah, but he’s gonna be in town for a while, I guess.” Spencer says. “He told me there was this bad fire in his school. He’s got a week off and he wanted to tour a college around here.”

“Huh.” Ryan nodded. “Cool. Jon isn’t much of my type, though. There’s a different guy I like.”

“Really?” Spencer lit up. “Who is it? Tell me, tell me!”

“Guess.” Ryan smiles smugly.

“Dude, you can’t just make me guess.” Spencer protests.

“I insist, or you’ll never know.”

“Hmmmm,” Spencer leans on the steering wheel in concentration. “Is the guy gay?”

“Bisexual.”

“Okay, so that narrows us down to Dallon Weekes, Patrick Stump, and Gerard Way.”

“Well, it’s none of them.”

“But then that only leaves…” Spencer suddenly leaps up in realization. “Brendon? You like _Brendon_?”

Ryan bites his lip, and nods, looking away.

“I won’t tell a soul, I swear.” Spencer promises. “I can’t believe you like Brendon! You two would be so cute together, holy shit. I ship it. How long have you liked him?”

“Freshman year.” Ryan admits.

“So,” Spencer smirks, “Brendon told me something about a week ago.”

“What?” Ryan demands. “Spence, you gotta tell me. You can’t leave me hanging!”

“He has a crush on you, too!” Spencer exclaims.

“Oh my god.” Ryan is breathless. Beautiful, perfect,, and extraordinary Brendon Urie has a crush on _him, George Ryan Ross_. “Oh my god.”

“This is perfect, right?” Spencer says. “I ship it so much. You guys are going to be absolutely adorable.”

“Don’t tell him, though.” Ryan says. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t worry, Ryan.” Spencer says. “So, I assume you don’t want to hear my plan to get you guys together, right?”

“Spencer, tell me right now, or I swear to god, I’ll-”

“Okay, okay, here it is.” Spencer whispers it into Ryan’s ear, and he agrees to the devised proposition.

A minute after Spencer and Ryan finalize their plans, Brendon races out the door and into the car, barely giving Ryan a chance to look at his outfit as he jumps into the backseat.

“Brendon, you’re so late.” Spencer scolds. “Trick-or-treaters will be out any minute now, I don’t want to run them over.”

“Sorry. Had to make my hair look nice.” Brendon pulls up the hood of his costume over it.

“Even though your hood will cover it?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah.” Brendon says. “Turn around so I can see your hair and if you’re worthy.”

“Nah, gonna wait until we get to the party.” Ryan teases.

“Seriously?”

“It’s your fault for being late.” Spence points out, as the car pulls out of Brendon’s driveway and starts down the road. “If you had gotten out earlier, there would’ve been enough time and light to see each other’s costumes.”

“Ughhhh, fine.” Brendon had spent so long in the mirror perfecting his hair, making sure every strand was in the right place and that his cheekbones were prominent, just for Ryan. If he had to wait until they all got inside to see each other, at least he would look kick-ass as fuck for Ryan.

 

Brendon is the one to knock (or pound) Dallon’s door and yell, “Trick or treat, motherfuckers!”. Dallon is a little upset that Brendon had screamed an obscenity when there were trick-or-treaters next door, but he’s still happy to see them anyway.

They enter, and Spencer immediately goes to greet his girlfriend, who arrived prior and she’s startled at how grotesque Spencer’s zombie costume is. His face, arms, and neck are covered into a light tint of green paint and the fake wounds are dotted everywhere, even underneath the rips in his torn shirt and pants. He probably won’t be getting sex from Linda tonight, but it’s an unanimous decision from everyone that Spencer should be the one greeting the trick-or-treaters that venture to the door.

Brendon and Ryan go into Dallon’s kitchen to grab one of the beers set out, and they’re finally able to get a good look at each other in the decent lighting as compared to the ominously-dim living room filled with funny-smelling fog from the smoke machine.

Brendon is the first one to let his eyes admire every inch and detail of Ryan. His hair has been slicked back, just like Brendon suggested, which matches his stunningly sharp jawline. The loose costume has been fastened with safety pins, too, which are unnoticeable and Ryan’s waist is so small in the black pants. His face looks naturally pale and ghostly only with a thin layer of foundation, and he even is wearing the bright red eye lenses that look up from the selection of beer bottles and smile up at him widely, showing his when fangs. He’s absolutely handsome, and Brendon can feel his heart pick up when Ryan’s eyes comb over him, too.

“You look amazing.” Ryan gasps. Brendon’s jawline and cheekbones are acute under the shade of the hood, and his smirk at Ryan’s compliment is breathtaking. His eyes shine brightly, and Ryan wishes he could kiss him right then and there. He could, too, but that was ruin him and Spencer’s plan, so he restrains himself. Every centimeter of Brendon’s skin look so kissable, so perfect, ready to be showered in Ryan’s kisses. Ryan has no idea how such a suave guy could love someone covered in fat like him. He had even trembled in the mirror before weighing himself and putting on his costume, pinching every single spot of sparse fat he could find that seemed to cling resiliently after all the dieting he subjected himself to.

“You look beautiful, too.” Brendon says, flustered. He also wishes could spring forward and pepper kisses all over Ryan’s face, wrap his arms around his tiny waist and hug his fragile and slender body. However, Brendon knows such a perfect modelesque figure would never want a fat fuck like him.

They select their bottles of beer, and head into the living room. Reassuringly, it’s a small gathering of about twenty people. They’re mostly the musical people they go to school with and know well. Brendon and Ryan drink in comfort that they’re around people who won’t snap too many pictures of them drunk or share with others the embarassing things that happened. It all will never go outside Dallon’s living room, only to be mentioned in reminiscent whispers of their Junior year Halloween party.

An hour or two in (nobody’s really keeping track of time), the trick-or-treaters finally stop coming to the door as word must have spread of the horrifying zombie and crappy candy, and they can all start the drunk games without being interrupted. They do a round of beer pong that has been set up in the backyard, and then Spencer suggests the idea of Truth or Dare. Everyone is in agreement, Dallon pushes away the living room furniture to make room, and they all sit in a circle on the carpet. Ryan fidgets a little bit in uncertainty.

Jon Walker challenges Josh Dun to put ice down his pants. Josh Dun asks if Frank Iero has ever hooked up with anyone in the room. Frank answers yes and everyone silently notices Gerard Way’s blush. Frank Iero asks Spencer the age when he first had sex, and he answers that it was fifteen.

Ryan already knows the hilarious story of how Spencer lost his virginity, so he gazes longingly at Brendon instead until he hears his name and has to look away to Spencer.

“Huh?” Ryan asks. He’s surprised the plan is being put into action already, but it’s now or never. He sits up straight attentively, and tries to quell how his heart is swelling.

“Ryan, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Brendon. Of course, if that’s okay with Brendon.” Spencer winks at Brendon, and his cheeks become hot. Sneaky Spencer was trying to hook him up with Ryan, knowing his crush on him, and he expected to hear Ryan protest, but nothing came out of his mouth. It was just the anticipating eyes of everyone boring into Brendon, awaiting his response.

“Okay.” Brendon says. Ryan’s been next to Brendon, and they both shift themselves around until they’re facing each other, sitting cross-legged. “How long?”

“Let’s say….” Spencer thinks. “Is two minutes okay?”

“Great.” Ryan says. Spencer sets a timer on his smartphone, and calls out, “Start!” as it begins to count down.

There isn’t any hesitation. One of them lunges forward, none of them really know who, but their lips are pressed together and they both are kissing back. It’s a long-awaited kiss, filled with gentleness and a wish to savor it as they continue. Twenty seconds in, Brendon entangles his hands in Ryan’s hair as he pulls his lips with his teeth lightly. One of Ryan’s hands goes up to Brendon’s chin and his other is placed on Brendon’s leg that he trails up to his back.

Brendon takes dominance over the kiss, forgetting that there’s a dozen-and-a-half people staring at them. He sweeps his tongue on Ryan’s bottom lip, and just as Ryan opens his mouth for him...

Spencer calls out, “Time’s up!”, although it takes a few seconds for each of them to separate from each other. Their heavy breaths fall on each other’s warm lips, and they finally look into each other’s eyes. As everyone else cheers and tells them to get a room, Ryan and Brendon can both feel the pent-up sexual tensions that’s been there for so long, and the way they just clicked was too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW a chapter without messaging??? I'm so glad there's no messaging in this chapter though because that shit is inexplicably soul-draining to format. Literally, it should just be as easy as putting < strong > before and after the messaging but NOPE ao3 is glitchy af with html so the way to make it work is to do the < strong > thing for every single fucking line of messaging, and then after that the non-messaging paragraphs below it will be bold and then i gotta figure out where to put a break or that paragraph start thingy and sometimes it will just add a bunch of unnecessary formatting things, literally like a hundred in a fucking row, and ughhghghghgh the things i do for ryden 
> 
> but actually i do love this fanfic don't get me wrong i just think ao3 needs to fix their shit
> 
> ANYWAYS they just kissed and if you like that you'll like the next chapter ;)


	6. A Casual Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think you may have an eating disorder, here is a link to a test: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/screening-tool
> 
> Even if it says you don't have an eating disorder and you think you may, please seek help. The earlier you can recover, the better.
> 
> You can also call, chat online, or email the National Eating Disorder Hotline here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline
> 
> You can search for treatment here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-treatment/treatment-and-support-groups

After Spencer drops them both off at midnight, they stand in between each other’s houses, on the edge of Ryan’s driveway and Brendon’s sidewalk.

“My mom isn’t home.” Ryan mentions. “So, you could come over. If you want. We don’t really have to do anything.”

Brendon takes Ryan’s hand, and he can feel the bones that stretch out through the thin layer of skin, which makes him envious. “I’d love to do anything with you.”

Heat runs up and down in Ryan’s body, and his heart can’t possibly go any faster.

“Cool.” is all Ryan says, and they silently walk up to Ryan’s front door. After they enter, they go up to Ryan’s room and Brendon waits on his bed while Ryan is in the bathroom taking off his makeup, fangs, and eye lenses. He takes off his executioner costume so all he’s wearing is just his skinny jeans, so his body will be on display for Ryan once he comes out. He tries to get into a sitting position that doesn’t roll what little fat is left on his stomach, and settles for lying down against the pillows.

Meanwhile, Ryan is in the bathroom, and all his makeup and fangs and lenses has been taken off while he’s stripped down to his boxers. He thinks his face looks decent enough, and his stomach doesn’t jut out too much, but he can’t shake the fat on his legs. They look so wide and huge in the mirror, and he pinches it over and over, wishing for it to go away. He doesn’t want Brendon to see him like this, and as much as he wants to call off the hook-up tonight, he does actually want to have sex. Ryan tries to push down and put away the thoughts of what’ll happen when Brendon sees how fat he is. Will he shake his head in disbelief, or just walk out, or scream obscenities? Ryan starts to shake.

No, he reasons. That won’t happen. Ryan may let his anorexia control nearly every aspect of his life, but no way would he let it bleed into his lovelife. Brendon has seen him shirtless many times, and he wouldn’t still love Ryan if he was disgusted. Ryan is in the underweight zone, and even though he knows that he still has a lot to lose, Brendon doesn’t see him the way Ryan views himself. Ryan takes a deep breath and focuses on the good things. He has a great jawline now, and his ribs stick out, and the bones in his hand look so good as they flex when he taps his fingers on the granite counter. He’s beautiful in some ways, and if he had no problem kissing Brendon, he should have no problem doing a handjob or a blowjob or having sex or whatever else he would do with him. Except he would be naked, and that would be a problem, but he knew it would be worth it. It had to. It was _sex_ , with _Brendon Urie_ , and he wouldn’t let “Ana” ruin it.

Ryan exits the bathroom, and slowly makes his way down to his bedroom. He keeps track of every breath he takes, and opens the door very hesitantly, scared to see if Brendon has left.

Brendon is still in the same position, lying shirtless against the pillows, and smiles when he sees Ryan. His eyes run over his body; his best friend is a fucking dream.

“Come here.” Brendon beckons, smirking. “You look hot as fuck.”

“You look amazing, too.” Ryan hoists himself up onto the bed, and crawls over to Brendon, lying next to him. Brendon rolls over to face him, and their breaths are hot on each other’s waiting and parted lips. Their eyes close, and so it begins.

 

**110ordeath: last night was WILD man**  
**xxskinnyboy: what happened dude**  
**110ordeath: ok ok ok so**  
**110ordeath: I think I have a boyfriend now**  
**110ordeath: it’s a long story**  
**110ordeath: so we were at a Halloween party, playin truth or dARE (dun dun dun) and my friend and me were dared to kiss**  
**110ordeath: so we kiss, it’s fucking hot as hell**  
**110ordeath: andddd then later at his house we have SEX**  
**110ordeath: TWICE**  
**110ordeath: it was amazing bro, so like we fucked first time, 69 second, and then in the morning before I left we gave each other blowjobs. So actually three times**  
**xxskinnyboy: tmi, but good for you!!**  
**110ordeath: thanks!! Gosh Ryan is so great**  
**110ordeath: That boi is beautiful**  
**110ordeath: anyways even though the sex was great, I still felt ashamed of my body so much during it I was so ready but so focused on if I looked good or not**  
**xxskinnyboy: well fuck that sucks**  
**xxskinnyboy: I felt like that during my first time too**  
**xxskinnyboy: how much had you eaten that day?**  
**110ordeath: about 500. It was a binge, but my mom is trying to be more healthy so our kitchen is filled with fruit and veggies, so it was just 500 cal of apples and strawberries and carrots and artichokes and kale**  
**xxskinnyboy: better than 500 of cookies though**  
**110ordeath: for sure!! Enough about me, how was your Halloween?**  
**xxskinnyboy: went to a party, got drunk, turned into a werewolf, ransacked a village, saw the ghost of Maximilien Robespierre, sacrificed a couple of virgins. The usual stuff.**  
**110ordeath: sounds like fun!!**  
**xxskinnyboy: it was**

As Ryan waits for Brendon’s response, he can see Brendon at his desk if he looks through the window at the right angle. He’s typing something informally, leaning back in his chair and with one hand. He stops for a minute to think, and then picks up his phone to text.

A few seconds later, Ryan’s phone vibrates. _Wanna go on a date?_ , Brendon has asked him.

_Sure._ Ryan replies back.

_What do you wanna do?_

_Baking._ Ryan instantly regrets it as soon as he hits send.

**110ordeath: FUCK**  
**110ordeath: Just asked Ryan on a date. He wants to bake.**  
**110ordeath: what do I do???**

Ryan’s heart dips. By now, it isn’t sheer coincidence that 110ordeath and Brendon have identical lives. No, they are two names merged into one personality, and that means Ryan knowingly knows every single detail of Brendon’s eating disorder, and Brendon unknowingly knows all of his. Ryan just had to knowingly suggest one of the worst objects to be the focus of their date: food.

Ryan quickly texts back, _We don’t have to bake though. It could be whatever else you wanna do._

_Maybe we could go apple picking? And then make a pie?_

_That sounds great! Yum, I love apples_

_Ikr! They bootiful_

**110ordeath: I managed to change the date idea to apple-picking. And then we’ll make a pie after. So maybe we’ll burn a lot of calories walking around the orchard at least**  
**xxskinnyboy: yay!!**  
**110ordeath: also remember how you told me to remind you to exercise**  
**xxskinnyboy: oh shit!! Yea I gotta do that. I’ll be back in 30!**

Ryan leaves the computer and starts doing jumping-jacks, flailing his arms up and down, up and down. Brendon peered out his window to Ryan’s and saw the boy exercising.

_A coincidence, a mere coincidence_ , he thinks. _Ryan has lost weight, but he could never be an anorexic. He could never be as perfect as me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter ;) I didn't do smut because I A) suck at writing it and B) I wanted this fanfic to focus more on how their eating disorders change their relationship and stuff so I just decided to imply that they had sex
> 
> I don't think I also mentioned if they're virgins or not. I think they would be in this fanfic, because they weren't comfortable enough with their bodies and sexual orientations beforehand to have sex. Idk it's not a big part of the story so I'm not writing it in last-minute but that's in case you were wondering.


	7. You Put A Sour Little Flavor In My Mouth Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think you may have an eating disorder, here is a link to a test: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/screening-tool
> 
> Even if it says you don't have an eating disorder and you think you may, please seek help. The earlier you can recover, the better.
> 
> You can also call, chat online, or email the National Eating Disorder Hotline here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline
> 
> You can search for treatment here: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-treatment/treatment-and-support-groups

Ryan and Brendon really can’t drive at all and the closest apple orchard is an hour’s drive, so that’s their first and second problem. They don’t have enough money to hire a ride service for that distance, so that’s their third problem. Instead, they walk to the grocery store and scour the aisles. They both secretly glance fleetingly at nutrition labels and ingredients to determine the lowest-calorie ingredients, and Brendon nervously taps on the shopping cart while it squeaks down the aisle and they approach the check-out. While they wait in line at the register and finish placing the food items on the belt, nothing more than the ingredients, Ryan places his hand on Brendon’s and kisses his cheek. It calms him down a bit, although now his heart pounds out of butterflies in his stomach rather than calorie thoughts.

Ryan suggests they take the long way home, making an excuse that it passes by the beautiful autumn trees in the park, although he really just would like to burn extra calories. Brendon thinks nothing of it, and the items in the bag aren’t going to go bad right away, so he decides on a yes. While they walk on the sidewalk, they both constantly and consistently check the step counting apps on their phones to track how many calories they’ve burned.

Ryan’s burned over a hundred so far, and he desperately wants to boast, but he could never let Brendon know how he struggles. Instead, he tightens his grip on the plastic bag and they continue walking, chatting about how beautiful the fall is even though their minds are elsewhere.

Baking proves to be a challenge for both of them. While Brendon’s back is turned to find a bowl, Ryan scrapes the sides of the pie crust and crumbs fall out into the trash can until it is a thin, jagged layer lining the tin. While Ryan’s back is turned, Brendon uses the fake sugar instead of the real stuff and almond milk instead of whole milk. While it bakes in the oven, Ryan calculates the calories per slice. About 300 if they split it into 6, 225 if they split it into 8. It could have really been worse, but then again, it could have really been better.

“How big do you want your slice?” Ryan asks Brendon.

“Massive.” He grins, outstretching his hands. “Almost as big as my dick.”

“That's gonna be a small slice!” Ryan laughs.

Brendon eats half of the whole pie, and Ryan picks at a meager slice. It does taste decent for everything being swapped with low calorie ingredients and the crust being fragile and paperclip-thin, but he just can’t bear to let himself taste anything other than the cinnamon-coated apple filling like the dollop of whipped cream or the crust.

Brendon finishes his slice, and then grasps for his tall glass of water and gulps it down to make the pie easier to come up. _Brendon is going to purge_ , Ryan immediately knows, when he darts to bathroom after throwing down the glass.

“Brendon? You ok?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Brendon stops on the stairs, looking down at Ryan on the couch, who still has ¾ of a slice on the plate balanced on his lap. The piece, still the same width as it was when cut, is slimmer than his delicate wrist poised over it. “I really just have to pee. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Ryan knows 110ordeath purges, and that he should confront the huge elephant in the room. Instead, he nods.

“Okay.”

Brendon is unpracticed in the art of silence, and Ryan can hear him sputtering up their hard work into the toilet. His retching, his coughs, the slamming of the toilet seat, the running of a faucet over a toothbrush to wash away the smell.

Ryan should yell through the thin walls and ask if Brendon is okay, or tell him when he comes back down that he’s xxskinnyboy.

He doesn’t. The guilt in the pit of Ryan’s stomach grows, a worm writhing through him when Brendon comes back down and they start kissing. He’s not thinking about how vomit was just in that mouth a few moments ago, but that Brendon legs shook when he came down the stairs and how he tried to hide his weak smile by pouncing his lips with his own. The taste of acid and mint toothpaste intermingling on his tongue is something he doesn’t want to know, but yet it still sticks in his head.

 

 

**110ordeath: we had sex after I purged**   
**110ordeath: That was weird**   
**110ordeath: but idk it still felt nice yayy**   
**xxskinnyboy: how the fuck do you have sex right after purging?? When I purged I felt like shit**   
**110ordeath: so what happened was this:**

 

Ryan gritted his teeth as remembered it. Brendon’s mouth did taste gross, but he didn’t want to turn him down, to ask what’s wrong, to interrogate him and make him feel terrible. So, instead, he had let Brendon escalate it. It wasn’t like it was non-consensual, it was fine besides the kissing and his own weak confidence in his sexiness.

**110ordeath: I felt like shit afterwards, but I didn’t want him to talk about it, so I basically started kissing him and somehow that helped**   
**xxskinnyboy: Ah.**   
**xxskinnyboy: be more careful next time. You shouldn’t be purging around your boyfriend.**   
**110ordeath: it’s ok. He’s soooo oblivious. He hasn’t even noticed that I’ve lost weight I think. He probably doesn’t care about me.**

 

_Wrong, wrong, wrong!_ Ryan thought, and starts to pound the keys as he types.

**xxskinnyboy: that’s not true at all, I’m sure he cares about you a lot!**   
**xxskinnyboy: he’s scared to approach the topic that’s all**   
**110ordeath: how would you know that?**

For the gazillionth time, Ryan considers telling him. However, ‘he’s scared to approach the topic’, of course.

**xxskinnyboy: just a hunch**   
**110ordeath: he’s also really skinny too. He’s never been fat. He wouldn’t understand ana, he doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t worked for it like me. He’d tell me to get help or something. Ugh.**   
**xxskinnyboy: maybe he would. you never know**   
**110ordeath: dude you’re here to help me lose weight, not encourage me to recover**   
**xxskinnyboy: sorry I’ll shut down**   
**110ordeath: ?**   
**xxskinnyboy: in my English class our teacher said not to say shut up. So everyone started saying shut down.**   
**110ordeath: THAT IS AMAZING I GET IT NOW**   
**110ordeath: BECAUSE WE DO THAT IN MY SCHOOL TOO HOW DID I FORGET OSJWBEKDLDJSHAVEVWHWJBW**   
**110ordeath: COINCIDENECEEEE I THINK NOT ILLUMINATI CONFIRMEDDD**   
**xxskinnyboy: ILLUMINATIII**   
**xxskinnyboy: my mom’s calling me down for something see ‘ya**   
**110ordeath: bye bye boiiiii**

 

When they return to school, Ryan stops in front of a new piece of paper hung up all along the walls of the school. _Eating Disorder Support Group_ , it reads, _in room 108 after school on Thursdays! Free cookies and soda!_

“Who would even go to that?” Ryan says to Gerard, who is waiting outside his homeroom, the North Chorus Room, with him. “Like, that’s like literally admitting to everyone that you’re fucked up. And what kind of sane person has cookies and soda at an eating disorder support group? That would cause a lot of anxiety.”

“I guess it could.” Gerard says. “I mean, it’s probably better than it sounds.”

“Does it look like I have an eating disorder to you?” Ryan gestures to himself. “I’m a guy. Most guys don’t have eating disorder.”

“You can have an eating disorder at any weight, and guys can still have eating disorders.” Gerard corrects. “I didn’t say anything about you. Although, you have lost a weight lately.”

_How is it noticeable?_ , Ryan wonders. He still looks practically the same in the mirror. Of course his body dysmorphia doesn’t hide all of his progress, like his collarbones and almost-thigh-gap. However, so many fat deposits sit on his body, clogging up his arteries and squishing his bones. He’s not skinny, no way at all he thinks he’s skinny.

“Shut up.” Ryan said.

“You’re defensive.”

“Sorry, I meant shut down.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Gerard says. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course everything is fine.” Ryan hisses. “I ate a pie yesterday, and I only exercised for an hour, and I eat thousands of calories and grab fast food all the time with Brendon and Spencer. I’m not a fucking anorexic!”

“Calm down.” Other people in the hall are turning their heads to Ryan, and Gerard silently puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When he rubs his shoulder, the bones feel like they’ve protruded out a bit extra just for Gerard, like to let him know that Ryan’s not as okay as he says he is. It sends chills down Gerard’s spine, and although it is slightly triggering, he keeps rubbing his shoulder, albeit a bit lighter.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan leans his head against the wall. “I’m being kinda extra today, I guess. Maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep. I’m going to go to the vending machine. I need gum.”

“Me too.” Gerard says. “Want me to come with you? Unless you need time alone.”

“Sure.” Ryan says. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i got some random but amazing plans for how this fanfic will go
> 
> like boi get your popcorn this shit is gonna be dramatic
> 
> ALSO THE NEW P!ATD SONGS ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE IT BRENDON HAS TRULY BLESSED US


	8. Would You Kiss Me, or Would You Leave Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! there's blanks for where they live in this fanfic, because honestly I have no idea where they should live but it doesn't matter that much really tbh so just imagine them living wherever you think they would, personally I feel like in the fanfic I'm getting Northeast vibes (like New York or New England area) but then again I live in the Northeast so you can just imagine them living in remote Russia if that really tickles your fancy

**110ordeath: it would be so cool if we lived near each other**   
**110ordeath: we could do so many FUN things if we lived near each other**   
**110ordeath: I don’t think you’ve told me where you live**   
**110ordeath: telllll meeee**   
**xxskinnyboy: wow creepy**   
**110ordeath: sorry you don’t gotta tell me**   
**xxskinnyboy: ——-**   
**110ordeath: Omg same???**   
**110ordeath: UNITE**   
**110ordeath: which town do you live??**   
**xxskinnyboy: ummm**

Ryan’s ready to type it; his heart pounds against him and he can’t tell if it’s the starvation or the anxiety.

**xxskinnyboy: ——-**   
**110ordeath: omg**   
**110ordeath: dudeeeeee**   
**110ordeath: I LIVE THERE TOO OMGAGAHAHHAHSHS**   
**xxskinnyboy: Holy shit!!!**   
**110ordeath: what school??**   
**xxskinnyboy: I go to the public school**   
**110ordeath: darn I go to the Jewish one**   
**110ordeath: HAHA JUST KIDDING I GO THERE TOO**   
**xxskinnyboy: OMG**   
**xxskinnyboy: I gasp**   
**110ordeath: dude…. we gotta meet up!!**   
**110ordeath: we’re in the same grade right??**   
**110ordeath: Holy shit it’s gonna be so great!! A real life anorexia friend!!**   
**110ordeath: TELL ME YOUR NAME**   
**110ordeath: actually no it should be a surprise for when we meet up!!**   
**xxskinnyboy: Okay!! Where do you wanna meet up?**   
**110ordeath: umMmmM**   
**110ordeath: tennis courts at midnight tonight??**   
**xxskinnyboy: spooky. I’ll be there**   
**110ordeath: I CANT WAIT TO MEET YOU**   
**xxskinnyboy: I’m positively elated**   
**xxskinnyboy: see you there!!!**   
**110ordeath: see you!! I’ll get to exercising now so I look skinnier than you**   
**xxskinnyboy: haha no ILL LOOK SKINNIER THAN YOU**   
**110ordeath: I BET I WILL BE, BYE BITCH IM GONNA GET ON THAT TREADMILL**   
**xxskinnyboy: BYE BITCH IM GONNA GO WINNNN**

 

Their tennis courts are shrouded in ivy, the cement cracked and holes stretched in the netting and wire fencing. It smells faintly of vape, as it’s a popular spot for students who skip. Brendon left first and it’s only a 20 minute walk, so he arrives early at ten minutes before midnight. Ryan leaves on his old, falling-apart bike just as Brendon is getting there, and at midnight, a mysterious person is in the distant dark. Brendon peers through the ivy at him, and anxiously awaits. There’s nobody else it could be but xxskinnyboy.

“Oh my god.” Brendon whispers, as the figure walks across the field and gets closer and closer. It has to be him, that lanky figure has got to be xxskinnyboy. “Oh my god, I’m going to meet him. Holy shit, I’m going to meet him. Holy shit.”

He springs up for a few jumping jacks a couple of times to get rid of the nervous energy, but his heart pumps rapidly still. However, as he gets closer, xxskinnyboy has an eerily similar body shape to someone he knows. It could be any one of his friends. Maybe it’s Dallon, he’s got collarbones for miles. He’s also heard rumors about Gerard vomiting in the toilet after lunch. It could be Patrick Stump, he’s not the skinniest person and he’s noticed his switch to salads at lunch.

Brendon is shocked when he sees.

“Ryan?” He asks. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” His eyes nervously dart around. His friend was going to be here any moment, and his boyfriend couldn’t just show up to ruin it all.

“Brendon, there’s something you should know.” Ryan looks composed as he steps through one of the fence holes into the tennis court, but he’s just as nervous as Brendon. His fingernails scrape against his own palm in nervousness, and he pulls down his jacket sleeves. Brendon notices his bony wrists, his skinny legs.

“No.” Brendon gasps. “You can’t be him.”

He’s been in front of him all along.

There’s silence for a few moments. Brendon looks up at the stars in the sky, and Ryan looks down at the weed growing in a crack that he is standing on.

“You can’t be him.” Brendon repeats, more softly this time.

“Brendon,” Ryan inhales deeply, and he shudders as his heart races in his chest. “I’m xxskinnyboy.”

Ryan doesn’t know what he’s expecting for a reaction. Half of him expects Brendon to start sobbing and saying he’s so sorry that he has to go through this, suggest recovery, and then they start a journey to being okay together. The other half expects Brendon to yell at him, scream that he should have told him sooner and that he shouldn’t have encouraged his eating disorder, then stomp away and never talk to him again as they both are triggered from the experience and starve until they die.

Ryan has an overactive imagination, so none of those overly-dramatic scenarios unfold.

“This…” Brendon looks down to Ryan, and grabs his shoulders. “This is great! I can’t believe you’re xxskinnyboy!! It’s going to be so great, we don’t have to go on dates with food. And we can encourage each other to eat less! We can have exercise dates! And make thinspo collages together! We’re going to be couple _and_ thinspo goals.”

“Oh.” Ryan says at first. Feeding into each other’s eating disorders probably isn’t the best idea, and he’s tempted to say no. However, it’s not like he’s on the road to recovery, and he can use all the help he gets. There’d be no more anxiety on dates, they could race each other to the gym instead of baking pies later to be purged. “Yeah! Let’s do it!”

“Awesome!” Brendon says. “Man, how did I not guess it was you? You’re so skinny!”

“Oh, stop.” Ryan says. “I’m not.”

“Well, you are! I’m so fat!” Brendon exclaims. “Wait, should we be giving each other meanspo or something? Or would that be too mean?”

Caution has been thrown to the wind. “Sure, let’s do it.” Ryan says. “I’ll start.”

“Great, real-life meanspo!” Brendon cheers. “Tell me everything.”

Ryan leans down and grips the fat on Brendon’s thighs. “You have a long way to go until you get a thigh gap.” He stands up and punches his chin. “You don’t even have a jawline. It’s all just a bunch of pudgey fat.”

“Oh.” Brendon thought he had a nice jawline, after all, it was one of his most complimented features. It must have been a lie. “Anything else?”

Ryan pulls up his shirt. “Your stomach isn’t too bad, but you’ve still got a few more pounds until it’s perfect. Otherwise, that’s it.”

It comes to him like a slap in the face. Ryan thinks he’s fat, and it doesn’t matter that he had called him thin and a role model so many times when he sent him thinspo. This was the real Ryan, the one who bet him he couldn’t lose weight and triggered the beginning of an eating disorder.

“My turn.” Brendon says. Ryan doesn’t want it, but he decided to take it anyway.

“Okay.” Ryan agrees.

Brendon wants to feel like he’s winning, that he’s skinnier, so he points out every single nonexistent flaw he can think of. “I don’t even know where to start. You look like you eat McDonald’s everyday.”

Ryan shifts his feet, adjusting his toes nervously.

“And you don’t even have fingers. Those look more like sausages.”

Ryan pulls down his jacket sleeve.

“And your butt is so bulky.” Brendon says. “I think there was cellulite on it when we had sex. It should be tight and smooth. Slapping it isn’t very pleasant, it’s like smacking my grandma.”

Brendon then kneels down and forces his hands between Ryan’s legs. “You can’t just stand like this. That’ll cut off your blood circulation since you have such fat legs, and you’ll faint. Remember when it happened to that obese girl in our chorus class? Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, even you should be able to remember that with all that plaque clogging the arteries in your brain.”

Ryan immediately changes his posture, and gulps and looks away at the stars. He regrets this so much, too much, and he knows he’s not _that_ fat. But he’s still not good enough for Brendon. He went easy on him, and this was what he received?

“You told me you have a thigh gap a few days ago?” Brendon then laughed, like it was hysterical, and grabbed the fat between his legs, shaking it. “I can almost see all the fat rippling under your jeans. This isn’t a thigh gap at all. I’m surprised your dick isn’t so tiny from being under so much pressure, fatass. Honestly, I never suspected you’d be xxskinnyboy for a second. You’re always eating, stuffing yourself with food like it’s the end of the world. I did have a few thoughts it might be you, but that frosty and fries you had at Wendy’s? Your username is a fucking lie. It’s like you’re not even trying.”

One salty tear slid down Ryan’s cheek, and he reached up to wipe it away, disguising it as an itch he had to scratch. That hit him harder than anything he could find on tumblr, to be quite honest.

“So…” Brendon stood up. “You need anymore meanspo?”

“No, I’m good.” Ryan said. _That’ll last for years._

“Awesome.” Brendon took Ryan’s hand and squeezed it. “Wanna walk to my house and do some exercise?

“Okay.” Ryan nods. “Let’s go.”

Luckily, the blanket of darkness that night gives disguises the tears quietly streaming down him and dripping from his chin to the sidewalk.

It’s 1 A.M., and they both need sleep. Their eyes are heavy, but they keep going, trying to see who can get to 1000 jumping jacks first. Brendon eventually falls asleep on the couch, Ryan gets to 1053 somehow with few breaks before his legs give out and he’s panting on the floor, sticky with sweat. A few minutes later, he gets back up. He’s in control, he needs to lose weight, and he needs to prove it to Brendon. He wants to get to a point where Brendon’s even scared to give him criticism because he’ll have the body of a starving child in Africa.


	9. Maybe I Lost Weight

Ryan’s noticed since his outburst that Gerard has been talking to him more and more, and Ryan talks to him more and more too. It’s fine and all, but Ryan is eternally waiting for Gerard to extend an invitation to that stupid Eating Disorder Club. Ryan would never go. Although maybe he would go for the cookies, as long as they weren’t store bought. _Skinny boys don’t go to clubs just for the food_ , he reminds himself. That was what he did in freshman year. He went to GSA just for the food on some days, and look how that turned out to be.

Meanspo has become a contest in the last few weeks with Brendon. They whisper to each other when the teacher isn’t looking. Brendon will say something like Ryan has no ribs, and Ryan will try to say something like, “at least I can run for 2 hours on the treadmill.”. Then the teacher will tell them to stop giggling and being lovebirds because they should be working on their worksheet, and then when she leaves they start giggling again because Brendon made a funny joke about how her feet are too fat to fit in those shoes that Ryan has to beat. So on and so on.

 

**110ordeath: at spencer’s house, we just got high and ordered pizza**   
**xxskinnyboy: you aren’t eating it are you**   
**110ordeath: welllllllll**   
**110ordeath: so Spencer put a bunch of french fries on it**   
**xxskinnyboy: oh no**   
**110ordeath: and then he poured CHOCOLATE SYRUP ALL OVER IT**   
**xxskinnyboy: at least there’s no way you’ll eat any of that**   
**110ordeath: welllllll**   
**xxskinnyboy: BRENDON**   
**xxskinnyboy: control yourself holy shit that sounds disgusting**   
**110ordeath: but i told him by accident that i haven’t eaten in a few days**   
**xxskinnyboy: BRENDON**   
**110ordeath: dude i’m high don’t blame me blame the 420**   
**xxskinnyboy: you shouldn’t have even been smoking weed in the first place if you knew you were gonna get hungry**   
**110ordeath: he just put a huge piece on my plate**   
**xxskinnyboy: how big**   
**110ordeath: like half of the fucking pizza**   
**xxskinnyboy: brendon no**   
**110ordeath: spencer’s telling me to eat it**   
**110ordeath: so guess who’s gonna be hunched over the toilet tonight**   
**110ordeath: THIS GUY**   
**xxskinnyboy: you’re dead to me**   
**110ordeath: but then that means no sex**   
**xxskinnyboy: fine you’re only slightly dead to me**   
**110ordeath: don’t worry babe, after this I swear I won’t eat for days and if I do I’ll purge it right away**

 

“Brendon, Brendon?” Spencer pounds on the door. “Are you okay?”

Brendon can’t respond, he’s too busy shoving his finger down his throat and gagging. Finally, the greasy pizza comes up, spewing out of his mouth. Spencer continues to bang his hand on the door.

“Brendon!” Spencer pulls on the locked door handle again. “Don’t worry, dude, I’ll get the bathroom key!”

“No-aaaAAUGH!” Brendon’s protest is interrupted by more vomit. A drop of toilet water splashes up onto his face but he can’t tell the difference between the tears and the water anymore. His brittle fingernails claw against the toilet seat as he coughs up all of that night’s mistakes.

All too soon, Brendon hears Spencer’s keys jingling in the lock as he finishes coughing and spitting out the remaining stomach acid in his mouth. The door bursts open, and Spencer kneels down next to Brendon, handing him the toilet roll to wipe his mouth with.

“Brendon, are you okay?” Spencer demands. “Geez, man, you can’t just starve yourself for days or things like _this_ will happen.”

“I’m fine, Spence.” Brendon says, ripping off a piece with his trembling fingers. “I guess putting chocolate syrup on pizza while being high just doesn’t agree with my stomach.”

Spencer rubs his back for a minute silently, as Brendon wipes his mouth with the squares of thin toilet paper and then flushes the toilet.

“You know, there’s rumors going around.” Spencer mentions. “Everyone’s been asking me if you’re okay.” Spencer has seen this certain type of paleness to Brendon before, usually after trips to the bathroom after meals when suddenly new scratches and bruises appear along Brendon’s fingers and knuckles. At first, Spencer didn’t have a clue, but after months and the sprouting of gossip, he did begin to get some sort of notion.

“What fucking rumors?” Brendon asks, trying to stand up by hoisting himself up with the aid of the side of the bathtub, but his legs collapse under him and he falls to the tacky duck-shaped rug.

“You know the rumors about Gerard?”

“Oh, yeah, the anorexic-bulimic dude with red hair?” Brendon asks. “What rumors about him?”

“You know what I mean, I mean what how you just described him.”

“Dude, I don’t have red hair!” Brendon chuckles, pushing his hair out of his face. His forehead is soaked with sweat.

“No, Brendon, people are starting to say you’re have an eating disorder.” Spencer states.

“What?” Brendon giggles, trying to stand up again but Spencer grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him back down to the bathroom floor.

“ _People are starting to say you have an eating disorder._ ”

“What?”

“Brendon, are you a bulimic?”

“No, that’s silly, Spence. Look at me, I’m perfectly healthy!”

Spencer observes Brendon. His sunken eyes, bruised and scratched knuckles, and his collarbones poking out from underneath his shirt collar all scream, _No, Brendon is not fucking okay!_

“Spencer, you’re high… so you must mean the rumors about Ryan?”

“Ryan?” Spencer asked. “What?”

“He keeps dwindling and dwindling away, the poor guy.” Brendon sighs mournfully, but his subconscious cackles as he traces the bathroom tiles and avoids Spencer’s eyesight. “Ryan’s been petrified to go on any dates with me involving food. Sex with him is like sex with a skeleton. He looks so unwell… everyone at school is so worried, you know?”

Luckily, high Spencer is none the wiser to Brendon’s manipulations. “Oh… that would make sense. I was looking at some old pictures yesterday of him, and he’s lost so much weight, hasn’t he?”

“He has!” Brendon exclaims. “You really should be worrying about him. The other day he exercised for hours trying to do 1000 sit-ups.”

“So, you sure you’re really okay?”

“Of course, Spence, but Ryan…”

“You did the right thing telling me.” Spencer patted Brendon’s back. “Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“I’m going to talk to the school counselor about it first thing tomorrow.” Spencer said.

“What?” Brendon demanded. “Spencer, you can’t do that!”

“I have to.” Spencer says. “If I don’t, Ryan could die.”

“He’s not ready for recovery!”

“Well, shit, he probably never will be, but if we let that stop us, then he’ll die.” Spencer holds up his hand, and starts listing on his fingers the facs he managed to hold onto from 9th grade health class. “Osteoporosis, stroke, death… that all could happen to him, you know.”

Brendon nods, knowing that it would very well be him that Spencer would be talking about if Spencer wasn’t oblivious and high. He doesn’t want to ruin Ryan’s chances of being skinny that he’s worked so hard for… Ryan is nearing his long-deserved goal weight, only 9.4 pounds away. It’s so close, brushing against Ryan’s fingers lightly and fleetingly. In less than two months, Ryan would be there.

But more importantly, he would be there before Brendon got to his own goal weight. This was one competition Brendon wants to win, and with everyone’s eyes on Ryan and not him, he’d be able to easily starve himself silly while Ryan’s mouth would be crammed with fattening and greasy foods.

“You’re right, Spencer… we need to save Ryan.”

Save Ryan? No, Brendon was going to shove him off of the first place spot on the podium.

 

In homeroom, Ryan is watching Gerard draw in his sketchbook and admiring how his bony but scratched fingers wrap around the pencil. The chorus teacher is placing sheet music on the music stands in front of the chairs, something written in Latin, when the phone at his desk rings. He picks it up, nods, and does an “mhm” and “okay” in agreement, then puts down the phone.

“Ryan, the counselor wants to see you.” He says. “She said to bring your backpack, it might take a while.”

Ryan nods. It’s probably for next year’s class scheduling. He’s trying to get into AP Physics, and it’s difficult since his Chemistry teacher despises him despite his excellent grades, and therefore won’t submit the recommendation he needs. Although, the counselor, Mrs. Perez, said it was all taken care of and he shouldn’t have to worry about it.

_Shit, what if it’s about my anorexia?_ , Ryan ponders. _No, I’m not skinny yet, nobody has reason to suspect anything at all._

“Yes, sir.” Ryan says, and picks up his backpack.

“You look like a deer in headlights.” Gerard whispers. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard she’s been starting to ask us about our college plans.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ryan sighs in relief. “I was worried it’d be about… ‘ya know.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything about anything you’ve told me. But you’re always welcome at the club.”

“Thanks.” Ryan smiles at Gerard while his backpack hangs loosely off of Ryan’s lanky stature. “See ‘ya.”

 

“Ryan, a few students are concerned about your wellbeing.”

_Fuck_ , Ryan thinks. _Gerard told, didn’t he? Besides Brendon, he’s the only that knows. Brendon wouldn’t tell. And I was rambling to Gerard about everything last night on the phone. I knew he wouldn’t understand, he’s trying to recover so of course he thinks I’m ‘killing myself’_. “What do you mean?”

“Someone came to me this morning and told me that they think you’re starving yourself.” Well, that excludes Gerard. Ryan hasn’t seen Brendon or Spencer all morning, so he just hung out with Gerard’s friends and then watched him draw. It was almost addictive, to see his skinny fingers on the pencil.

“ _Whaaaat?_ ” Ryan smiles awkwardly, cheekbones poking out, like he thinks it’s some sort of joke. “Who would say that? I eat plenty of food. I’m very healthy.”

“They told me you’ve been losing a lot of weight lately, and you barely eat.” Mrs. Perez says. “This office is a safe space. You can say anything you want to.”

“Well, if I can say anything I want to… this is all _bullshit_! I’m not an anorexic, I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure? They seemed extremely concerned.”

“Yes, completely sure.” Ryan says. “I love food. It’s amazing. I could never not eat food.”

His heart pounds. _Oh god, please don’t call my parents, just let me go to class, oh god…_

“Well, if you insist.” She said. “But I would like you to at least attend the next Eating Disorder Club meeting.”

“What?” Ryan demands. “Really, I don’t need to go. I’m fine. Who told you this made-up bullshit? Because it’s all shit. I’m healthy.”

“It’s still important to be aware of eating disorders, so I think you should go.” She says. “If you don’t, then you’ll have to serve a week of detentions.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Ryan, your peers are worried about you…”

“Well, which fucking peers? Whoever the hell would tell you that is lying, and obviously doesn’t know me at all, because my friends would never say that.”

“It was a reliable source.”

“Fuck, it was Brendon, wasn’t it?” Ryan asks.

“I have to keep students confidential, Ryan. It wasn’t him, and I can’t tell you who it was.”

“So, it was? Great, bye. I’ll go to that stupid eating disorder club, even though I _don’t_ have one and I shouldn’t be punished for the stupidity of my friends.” Ryan grabs his backpack.


	10. There's Nothing Wrong With Just A Taste Of What You've Paid For

“Welcome!” The teacher running the Eating Disorder club is one of the health class teachers, Mrs. W. “It’s nice to see you, Ryan. How have you been?”

“Good, and you?” Ryan doesn’t dislike her necessarily, but she did freak out a little too much over when she overheard Brendon and him talking about weed, so he’s always held a grudge over the fact his parents had been called. Luckily, Brendon’s mom didn’t care and Ryan lied to his own parents that he was just imitating someone.

“Oh, I’m doing well.” She says. “Not still doing weed, are you?”

Ryan conveniently sneezes instead of answering, and before he can reply, Gerard approaches him and drags him away.

“So, did the counselor find out?” Gerard inquires quietly, bringing him to a desk in the back of the classroom, right next to the birth control poster, pretending to show him where the tissues are.

“Sorta. Brendon came crawling to the fucking counselor, whining about my anorexia minutes after he’s been throwing up into a toilet.” Ryan whispers back angrily. “He’s been texting and calling me nonstop all day, but I’ve blocked his number, email, his Instagram, and his snapchat.”

“Maybe he’s just worried about you?” Gerard asks.

“Bullshit.” Ryan says. “He just wants to win. He isn’t worried at all. Just a few days ago he was telling me how disgusting I was and how much fat I needed to lose, and now he goes and does a stunt like this? I can’t fucking trust him anymore.”

“I can see your point.” Gerard says. “But it could be a blessing in disguise.”

“Yeah, one Eating Disorder Club meeting will _definitely_ make me eat a cheeseburger.” He sarcastically replied. “What are you guys doing this meeting, anyway?”

“Usually Mrs. W passes out cookies and soda. It’s a bad idea, everyone keeps telling her that it makes people feel anxious or ashamed and we should just leave it on a table for anyone to take. She doesn’t listen to us, but she’s the only teacher who we can get to run the club.”

“Even if I do recover, I’m never coming back to this club.”

“I wouldn’t come back either, if I had a choice. Only half of the kids who were there the first time are here.” Gerard motions to the rest of the classroom. It’s about six people. “I was elected president of the club, though. Nobody else ran for a position after seeing how much of a shitshow this is.”

Suddenly, a package of cookies is shoved in Ryan’s face. “Cookies?” Mrs. W offers, although it seems more like a demand.

“No thank you.” Ryan politely declines, looking down at the floor and widening his eyes in annoyance.

“Are you sure, Ryan?” Mrs. W pushes the cookie package under Ryan’s nose. They don’t even smell tantalizing, it is only a cheap and stale smell that makes Ryan step back. The rest of the people in the classroom are looking over, probably most likely in sympathy to Ryan. However, with their gazes pressing on him, Ryan instead feels as if they all are silently telling him like many ignorant people to just eat it and get over it.

“No thanks.” Ryan firmly repeats, clenching his jaw.

“Oh.” Mrs. W takes out a few cookies and hands them to Ryan anyway. “Here you go, just in case you get hungry, darling. You look like you could use it.”

Ryan takes the cookies hesitantly, and as soon as Mrs. W has moved onto bugging the sophomore who moved from France last year, Ryan flings the cookies into the trash.

Soon enough, the club meeting starts. It commences with Mrs. W asking everyone about their day, to which everyone replied, “Fine.” and then she asks them if they wanted to share anything with the group. They all decline. Mrs. W especially tries to pressure Ryan to say something, but Ryan instead insists he has nothing to say. Finally, she gives up, and she moves onto lecturing about the toxicity of social media and how it’s the reason that’s causing them to have eating disorders either to look like photoshopped models or to get attention, and how deleting their “Facebooks” and “MySpaces” will speed up their recovery even though it's 2018 and nobody uses those.

Everyone is grimacing by the time it’s time to leave, and from a few whispers, Ryan knows the Eating Disorder club probably won’t last long, to which he feels relieved.

Ryan walks out of the classroom, in the opposite direction of the few who have eaten cookies walking to the bathroom to purge. He parts ways with Gerard as they go outside, waving bye to him, and Ryan decides to walk home today even though he could have taken the after-school bus. He needs to burn the calories, anyway, even though he hasn’t eaten all day and with every passing hour, the frequency of his near black-out experiences increase whenever he’s standing.

When he reaches his front door, his knees ache. Ryan searches his backpack for his keys, when he’s surprised by a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, Ryan.” Brendon grins when Ryan turns around, but he’s greeted by Ryan’s stern and upset face. “Everything okay? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Because I’ve been at that fucking awful Eating Disorder club, which by the way, is more like an anorexic shaming session without any acknowledgment that bulimia and orthorexia and other eating disorders exist. Mrs. W is a fucking demon who doesn’t know what she’s teaching.” Ryan rants, and then points at Brendon. “And I was there because of you!”

“What?”

“You’re the only one who knows! Except for Gerard, but I was hanging out with him all morning so it wasn’t him. And guess what? I was hanging out with him because you weren’t there, you were busy tattling on me! I thought we were dating, I thought I could trust you. You are supposed to be my two best friends wrapped in the same package, a 2-for-1 deal for Brendon fucking Urie and 110ordeath.”

“Ryan, please just let me explain…” Brendon begs. “I accidentally told Spencer while I was high! He was the one that told, and I went with him. Please, forgive me.”

“You’re lucky I was only sentenced to one stupid club meeting, otherwise right now I’d be having an EKG and being assigned inpatient!” Ryan yells. “You could have messed up everything for me! Everything! And I’d never be skinny, I’d be stuffed with fucking cake and cheeseburgers and disgusting protein drinks. I’d have to share a room with some dude who probably would dig fucking glass shards or bobby pins or paperclips into his skin when I’m trying to sleep, and I’d have to be watched while using the bathroom, and having my room constantly searched for laxatives and self-harm crap. I’d be forced to stay inside and spill out my feelings and be told, ‘Oh, Ryan, you’re doing so well.’ by nurses who never believe what I say and couldn’t give a shit about my wellbeing as long as they’re piling pounds onto my body so they can be skinnier than me!”

After Ryan spills out everything, there’s a minute of silence as they both stand there.

“I didn’t want to say anything, I swear.” Brendon says. “I promise I won’t let Spencer get in the way of us becoming skinny. Please, I’m so sorry, Ryan. I can’t express how sorrowful I am.”

“Fine.” Ryan eventually sighs. It is only Brendon’s first fuck-up, and stuff like this was bound to happen anyway. “You’re forgiven. But I swear to fucking god, don’t you dare let Spencer get in the way.”

“Thank you, I swear I would never.”

They go inside, kiss, and then follow an exercise video together. Their stomach rumble in syncopation. Ryan collapses to the floor halfway through a push-up, his legs shaking. Brendon gives him an apple and carries him up to his bed, like it’ll be alright.

It won’t be alright.

 

“Let’s do a diet together.” Brendon whispers to Ryan as soon as Spencer gets up from the lunch table to get more tater tots. Brendon knows he should probably know better; after all, Ryan did almost faint during their exercise the other day. However, he needs the competitive spirit to beat Ryan.

“Which one?”

Brendon shows Ryan his phone. “ABC diet.”

“Oh, yea, I’ve heard of it. Never tried it though.” Ryan shrugs. “I’m down for it.”

“Lit.” Brendon says. Spencer returns to the table with his second helping of tater tots, and holds one out to Ryan.

“No thanks.” Ryan shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.”

Spencer keeps the tater tot held up, and shrugs.

“You’re a persistent little shit, Spence.” Brendon laughs. Ryan laughs along with him, but Spencer glares at Brendon.

“This is _serious_.” He insists. 

“Spencer, cut the shit. I’m fine and I don’t want a tater tot.”

“Ryan, you _never_ eat lunch.” Spencer whispers. “Please, just a few tater tots.”

“Spencer,” Ryan smiles and tries to laugh it off. “I’m okay.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Spencer, I’m okay.”

“Then please eat a tater tot.”

“Lunch makes me feel sick.”

“That’s what you always say about breakfast, and then dessert, and snacks, and even sometimes dinner. Ryan, please let me try to help you. Honestly, you look like shit.”

“You can fuck off.” Ryan’s had it, slamming his palms on the lunch table. “I’m not coming back to this lunch table until you start listening to me.”

Ryan picks up his backpack, and his shoes squeak on the floor tiles laid over asbestos. Spencer sighs, dropping the tater tot back on his lunch tray.

“Spencer, maybe he’s just not ready to recover.” Brendon says. “And what you said about him looking like shit, that could be triggering.”

“What are the chances he’ll ever want to recover?” Spencer demands. “We need to help him, dude. He’s bones. He needs help. Like, seriously, look at him. If you compare him to you, he’s a fucking skeleton.”

“Compare him to _me_?” Shit, Spencer thinks he’s fat, doesn’t he?

“Well, I don’t mean it like that.” Spencer suddenly remembers when Brendon had been throwing up. “You’re really skinny. Just not Ryan-skinny, ‘ya know? Like, you need help too, but he’s obviously much more worse off.”

“No, I get it.” His voice cracks as Brendon’s fork drops into the salad on his tray. Everything is absorbed into him. He isn’t Ryan-skinny, and it’s no wonder; his salad is covered in ranch dressing and he has to throw everything up. Ryan, meanwhile, can go days without eating and will only break fasts with an orange or red pepper slices. Brendon always prided himself on calling himself an anorexic, just like Ryan, except he was more of a wannarexic striving to lose weight and relate to the community but instead throwing up everything he was supposed to tremble at.

“Brendon, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that at all.”

“Fuck you, Spencer.” Brendon leaves the table to go to the bathroom and add a few more scratches to his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY it's been almost a whole month since I've updated. Good news is though that my intense studying for AP Euro paid off and I got Form O so it was the easy one but I didn't study for the DBQ topic and I didn't have enough time to complete it but everything else was easy peasy so pray I get a 4 guys
> 
> ANYWAYS now that I barely have to worry about AP Euro, I have my stupid finals to study for but I've pretty much mastered everything (except geometry but it's not my fault my teacher is only using castle learning for our reviewing and the regents exam on a curve anyway so it's okay as long as everyone else in ny is worse than me) so I don't have to do that much studying so that's more time for drawing, languages, youtube, and oh yeah WRITING FANFICTION.
> 
> And this fanfic is pretty dang close to being finished, like take my word dudes by the end of summer it will be done or very close to it at the least.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, cuz you won't enjoy the next one ;)


	11. Don't Fade Away

A week later, it’s Monday and Ryan and Brendon sit on the steps of the school whispering to each other.

“My mom’s on a business trip.” Brendon whispers. “I could fast every fucking day if I wanted.”

“You should. I would.”

“It would be a great head-start.” Brendon agrees. “I think I might do that. I really need to get rid of the weight, especially after what Spencer said to me after last week.”

“He didn’t mean it that way.” Ryan clutches Brendon’s hand. “You really are skinny, Brendon.”

“I guess.” Brendon shrugs. He doesn’t believe Ryan’s words, and it seems as though he never will. “How are you?”

“It’s going to be hard.” Ryan sighs. “Mrs. Moore is bringing in brownies for the class today. And Dad wants to get Thai food tonight.”

“You can ‘eat dinner’ at my house if you would like.”

“Nah, we haven’t been doing much eating as a family lately.” Ryan scowls. “We’re having a Netflix marathon complete with too much dessert. It’s going to be tough. But the day might be okay if I exercise before the carnage.”

“You can do it.” Brendon encourages. “We can both do it.”

“We can.” Ryan agrees. The first bell warning them homeroom is about to start chimes, and they scramble up the stairs and run inside.

 

“Ryan? You’ve barely touched anything.” Ryan’s mother says. “We’re going to Thailand this summer, you should really get used to the food.”

“I like the food, I just want to save room for dessert.” Ryan explains. “That’s all.”

“Oh, Ryan, there’s no need to worry about filling yourself up too much. You’re a growing boy, eat your spring rolls.” His mother says, and then turns to his father. “Oh, I dread to think about what he’s going to be eating in college.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna love the freshman fifteen.” His dad adds. “Don’t worry, you could definitely put on a few pounds. You’re starting to look like an anorexic.”

“Great.” He sarcastically sighs. They don’t notice Ryan’s eye roll as he takes another bite of his spring roll.

“Alright, so you want to hear the desserts I’ve bought for us?” Ryan’s mom asks. “So after work, I went to the store and picked up a pint of ice cream for each of us. I got vanilla for myself, caramel fudge for your father, and your favorite, Ryan.”

“Vanilla?” Ryan asks.

“That isn’t your favorite flavor.”

“It is now.” Ryan answers. “What? You didn’t get me that?”

“No, I bought you that triple layer one. The one that’s chocolate chip with caramel and oreo pieces.”

“Oh.” Ryan says. “Well, I mean, that’s great, but can you get me the vanilla next time? Or maybe mango? I’ve been trying to be healthier.”

“Ryan, you’re plenty healthy. A little ice cream won’t hurt you, you never even touch it because you’re so busy with school.” His mother states. “Oh, and I picked up a bit of raspberry cheesecake with a brownie crust, too. It looks amazing.”

Ryan grimaces with a smile, staring down at the spring roll. His phone sitting on his leg lights up with a text from Brendon.

**110ordeath: I haven’t eaten anything today! I feel amazing but my stomach kept growling during chemistry. How are doing???**

Ryan turns off his phone and eats the rest of his spring roll in silence.

 

“Brendon!” Spencer grins, stepping onto the treadmill next to him. “Wanna talk?”

“No.” Brendon plugs his ears with his earbuds. “Bye, Spence.”

“ _Brendon._ ” Spencer pulls out Brendon’s earbud. “I want to talk. You and Ryan have been ignoring me for a week.”

“Week and 3 days, actually.”

“Please.” Spencer begs. “I’m getting worried.”

Brendon glances up at Spencer, and black spots appear in his vision. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Brendon, please, you can trust me.” Spencer pleads.

Brendon opens his mouth to speak, and the black spots grow in his vision and the room wavers. He collapses against the moving treadmill. The safety clip is yanked off, and the treadmill abruptly stops. The alarm on the treadmill starts to blare, and the other students stop their exercise equipment and stare in petrified shock before they start crying for the teacher.

“Mr. Erickson!” Spencer yells. “Brendon’s passed out! Holy fucking shit, Brendon?!”

Spencer rushes to sit next to Brendon, and the gym teacher comes running to him and checks his pulse.

“His heartbeat’s too slow!” Mr. Erickson announces. “Spencer, call 911!”

 

“We will be commencing a shelter-in-place.” The principal says over the loudspeakers. “Please keep all students out of the halls and lock your doors. You may continue teaching as planned.”

Ryan’s chemistry teacher opens the door and yells for a student in the hall walking from the bathroom to get into her classroom. Gerard reluctantly comes inside, and he’s relieved to see Ryan. He goes into the back and sits next to him, then begins doodling guitars on his chemistry notes in a blue pen.

“Alright, let’s continue with our notes.” The chemistry teacher says after locking her door. “Can anyone tell me what a heterogenous catalyst is?”

The room is silent.

“You should know, your assigned reading was about this last night. This is an honors class!” She says. “Ryan, you’re going to be in AP Physics, what is it?”

“Oh, um, a catalyst in a different phase than reactants?” Ryan asks, looking away from the window. There’s a police car outside.

“Correct.” The teacher says. “Participate more in class, Ryan, and stop looking out the window, and I’ll stop giving you a tough time about AP Physics.”

“Mhm.” Ryan goes back to looking out the window with everybody else when the chemistry teacher’s back is turned to them to write on the board.

“There’s an ambulance!” Gerard yells, and sure enough a second later, everyone hears the sirens out the window and one pulls up in the front of the school.

Everyone jumps up from their seats and runs to the window, and watches the paramedics dash inside.

“What do you think happened?” Gerard asks. “Mr. Takiguchi probably broke his hand again by slamming the table too hard, I bet on it.”

Ryan’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he digs it out to look at.

**Spencer Smith: Brendon passed out in gym he’s being sent to the hospital holy shit I’m so sorry ryan**

Ryan makes some sort of choking noise when he gasps, trying to hold back an onslaught of tears. No, Brendon was fine the other day, wasn’t he? Ryan even weighs less than him.

A minute later, the paramedics are wheeling someone out on a gurney. From the second floor, Ryan can clearly tell Spencer was right.

“Gerard, that’s Brendon.” Ryan cries.

 

The ambulance is a blur. Spencer is there with him. The paramedics are throwing around words like “unconscious” and “anorexia” that fly over his head while his mind is fuzzy and filled with static. His head hurts from slamming on the floor. They think he might have a concussion. His boney knees are scraped from the treadmill. Spencer’s telling them that Brendon makes himself throw up. The paramedics are making notes to check his electrolytes and look for ulcers.

Brendon wants to go home. That’s all he can think about. He wants to go to bed and wrap himself in his thick blue sheets with Ryan at his side. He tries to get up so he can leave, but he’s only pushed down when he tries to sit up, like usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH DAMN
> 
> shit just went DOWN didn't it
> 
> anyways so i'm part of a wattpad account now and it's called -fxndxm, I'll be reposting some of my fanfic on there and the other people on that account are amazing (seriously they're amazing) writers so go check it out if you like wattpad??
> 
> Anyways, I have no idea when I'm gonna update next. Probably within the next few weeks, I've got a lot of studying for the stupid regents. I think I can keep a regular update schedule this time, mere regents exams are in no way comparable to AP exams so I don't have much studying to do.
> 
> Good luck to those of you also taking finals! I hope you all do extremely well. Now go and study, be a good student!!! YOU CAN DO IT!!


	12. I Am A Disappearing Act Done Poorly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone for a while oops enjoy the chapter

By the time the shelter-in-place is over, Ryan texts his mother to pick him up and take him to see Brendon. They’re sitting in the car, driving down the highway to the hospital.

“It really is a shame about Brendon, I’m so sorry, honey.” His mother says. “Brendon is really a dapper young man, your boyfriend deserves so much better than this. Do you want to go pick up a card for him? Flowers?”

“No, I just want to see him.” Ryan says.

“Ah, I understand.” His mother says. “You’re so lucky you’re not so unhealthy like him. If you had an eating disorder, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. You deserve the world, sweetie. I had this one friend in middle school that had anorexia, and she died when she committed suicide. I’m so glad you’re so healthy. You’ve really been taking charge of your health lately, thank god too, since obesity runs on your father’s side of the family.”

_Healthy_ , Ryan thinks as he stares out the window, tracing the bones sticking out of his hand. “Yeah.”

 

As soon as Spencer sees Ryan come into the waiting room, he stands up to walk toward him. However, Ryan’s demeanor is unwelcoming as he avoids Spencer’s gaze and sits down across the waiting room, picking up a magazine. Spencer sits back down in disappointment.

“Spencer, I haven’t seen you in quite a while.” Ryan’s mother remarks. “How have you been? Ryan, let’s go sit next to Spencer.”

Ryan ignores her, and keeps skimming through the magazine article on sponge candy.

“He must be distraught, I suppose.” Ryan’s mother says to Spencer. “So, how has everything been with you?”

“Good, at least for the most part.” Spencer says. “How has everything been for you, Mrs. Ross? Work going good?”

“Oh yes, everything is going quite well. I got promoted recently, but unfortunately I haven’t had much time to be around the house.”

“Neither is Brendon’s mother, and look where he ended up.” Ryan snarks.

“Ryan, that’s not polite!” His mother scolds. “When Brendon’s parents get here, you better not say anything of the sort!”

“His parents are out of town. They’re visiting their friends in _Paris_.” Ryan hisses the word Paris like it’s the most abominable thing on his tongue.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Ryan’s mother says. Ryan opens his mouth again, but one vicious glare from her forced him to shut it.

It’s never a coincidence Brendon’s parents are always going to Paris. Excuses, excuses. They would probably move there, but then they’d have to bring along the result of a broken condom and a family that believes in shotgun weddings in place of abortions. Technically “it isn’t child neglect”, Brendon will always deny and say to Ryan. He’s going to be in college in 2 years, and his grandma visits him every other weekend, and his parents just believe in free-range parenting. Ryan’s pretty sure it’s still neglect since Brendon isn’t 18, but Brendon’s used to it and doesn’t give much thought to it.

Brendon seems to have been stabilized pretty quickly, so the nurse comes into the waiting room looking to see if anyone from Brendon’s family had come. There’s still only Brendon’s friends, and they inform her again that his parents won’t be coming for quite a long time, and his grandmother lives two states over and will take a while to drive over. Thus, the nurse is kind enough to let them in to see Brendon since they’re all he has right now.

Ryan’s mother stays behind and says she’ll go out to buy Ryan and Spencer some snacks from the vending machine, so they follow the nurse down the bleak hall that has a distinct smell of strong antiseptic. Ryan can’t help thinking that he’ll most likely end up here soon also, although he still denies it since he’s not keeling over at every second. Despite this, he still avoids reflective surfaces to evade his ghastly pale face and frame that seems is composed of twigs about to snap at any given moment.

“Here he is.” The nurse shows them into Brendon’s room, where he lies with tubes hooked up to a machine and IV digging into his flesh. Ryan gulps at the sight of liquids and nausea grows in him. He’s never been to the hospital, so the thought of having something inserted into his skin for a long period of time is horrifying. He can do vaccines, sure, but that? He hopes he dies first.

“Hey, guys.” Brendon says. “Welcome to my incredibly boring abode.”

“I’ll be out in the hall if you need me.” The nurse says, and leaves the room. Ryan and Spencer recover from the shock of seeing their friend in this bed, and rush over to him to hug him. Spencer’s hug is long and tight, like he never thought he’d give one to him again. Ryan’s is quick as he can feel Brendon’s spine and ribs poking out aggressively, and Ryan pulls back after just a few seconds, wiping a tear from his eye and sitting down.

There’s silence as they all look at the floor and Brendon’s gaze is partially focused half on the bedsheets, half on the TV playing the local news at a low volume.

“So… how are you?” Spencer asks. “You gonna be okay?”

Brendon bites his lip. “I guess I’m alive. They…” His eyes turn bleary, tinted with red and moist. “They… diagnosed me with…” He gulps back the tears and whispers in a shaking voice threatening to begin sobbing at any moment. “Shit, I don’t know. But it’s pretty much an eating disorder.”

“I’m so sorry.” Spencer apologizes. “I wish I could’ve helped, I should have done something.”

“You did all you could, Spence.” Brendon assures him. “It’s my fault. You were trying, and I pushed you away, because I thought I was fine. Clearly,” He gestures to the IV in his arm. “I’m not.”

“You better try to get better.” Spencer says, tears gathering. “I don’t want to see you like this. I can’t stand just seeing you nearly die in front of my eyes in school, that’s not supposed to happen. You need to live so we can apply to college, get jobs, have families, be best friends. I don’t want my life to go on while you sit in a grave.”

Brendon nods, gritting his teeth amidst the tears streaking his cheeks. “I’m going to try. I swear, Spence. They said I’m showing early signs of osteoporosis, anemia, cardiac arrest, ulcers, cavities. I don’t want to die.”

Ryan feels the tears coming on also, digging his nails into the miniscule thighs he had left.

“How long will you be here?” Spencer asks. “Is all of that reversible?”

“Yeah, they said it can all be reversed, but if it had gone on for a few more months…” Brendon shudders. “But yeah, it’s really a wake-up call. I’m going to really try to recover, I can’t take this fucked-up version of my reality anymore. I’ll be here a week or so while they watch me and strengthen me up, then I’ll be transferred to the mental hospital downtown. Things aren’t certain yet, they still have to talk to my parents about it, maybe my grandma if I’m lucky. Ryan, are you okay?”

Ryan notices that his hands have been trembling, that he’s been intensely staring at the floor, and the shaking of his leg up and down, up and down, up and down, converses clattering against the floor.

“I… I’m good.” Ryan says, standing up. He shouldn’t be here. This is all his fault in the first place, and the psychologists and doctors and social workers will convince Brendon of all that and that it’s a toxic relationship and Brendon deserves someone who can keep their shit together. Ryan will have no place in Brendon’s heart as soon as he spills that it’s all _Ryan’s_ fault, even though Brendon was by far the harshest in terms of encouragement and fat-shaming and meanspo.

“Are you going to have a panic attack?” Spencer asks.

“No!” Ryan screams. “I don’t have anxiety. I don’t have an eating disorder or early osteoporosis or bulimia or a fucking IV in my arm, so why don’t you just worry about Brendon instead?!”

“Ryan, you have a fucking eating disorder too, you deserve just as much as Brendon.”

“It’s my own damn fault he’s here in the first place!” Ryan protests. “I deserve to just suffer. Brendon, you don’t need me, all I am is just your indirect suicide. So I’ll leave now before you know better to kick me out.”

Ryan walks out of the room, shivering. He tries to compose himself, as being extremely anxious - no, he’s fine, Brendon is doing worse - he's _looking_ anxious, that’s the word, will most definitely attract unneeded attention from medical professionals that spent eight or so years studying intensely to be here that therefore know every single warning sign of anxiety although it’s just coincidence that Ryan happens to only be looking anxious because he’s really fine compared to Brendon and deserves whatever happens to him. Ryan walks into the waiting room, where his mother is just entering.

“Ryan! I bought you a snack.” His mom smiles. “I don’t know if Brendon is allowed to eat, but if he is, I’ll go fetch him something, and if not, just ask him what to sneak him. I think Spencer likes Doritos, right? And I got myself a chocolate bar, and I know you’ve been trying to be healthy, so I got you a protein bar.”

“Thanks.” Ryan takes the protein bar and Doritos. “I’ll take this to Spencer.”

It’s a lie. Ryan heads to the bathroom instead, and eats both the protein bar and Doritos after making sure all the stalls are empty along with the hallway. After a few minutes of reading Spencer’s worried texts and not replying, Ryan purges into the toilet in the stall furthest from the door. It’s been a while, so he’s rusty, but he’s quiet enough for anyone outside to not hear and it all comes up. He didn’t even want the food, but some reason, he just needed the comfort of purging, no matter how fucked up it was. A comfort that Brendon was now _definitely_ better than he was, because Ryan deserved to be hurting.

Ryan wipes off the vomit with toilet paper and flushes, and when he opens the stall door, his mother is standing there, shocked.

“Ryan?” Her face pales. “Are you really okay?”

There’s no explanation for Ryan to look for. His mind is blank.

_Run, run, run._

He sprints forward to the exit. His mother tries to catch him, but his adrenaline forces him to push past and fling open the door into the hallway. Luckily, the entrance is close, so he runs there and out of the doors. Nobody at the reception really cares since he’s got a visitor sticker, and even though his mother goes after him, chasing after him to the parking lot, he’s nowhere to be seen. Ryan’s mother looks for him, searching the dimming lot for him, running through the parking garage and around the perimeter and calling out his name. It’s fruitless; Ryan’s gone missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i've literally never had to go to the hospital before so sorry if I got anything wrong. So this chapter ended a bit dramatically I guess lol. I've already worked a lot on the next chapter so you'll get that pretty soon so don't worry, I'm going on vacation soon though so might be a while or really soon idk.
> 
> A little bit of this chapter is kinda based off some of my own repressed feelings. The other day we were visiting someone I know in the hospital and my mom asked me if I was okay and I lied and said yea and she was like "i'm so glad you're healthy" and i felt like shittt for lying but like I kinda can't just stop losing weight soooo yah. Also I think I'm sorta anxious but I always deny it because I know other people have worse anxiety and I've never had a proper anxiety attack so I pretty much deny it anytime anyone says I have anxiety even though uhhh I think i might.
> 
> so yea i just spilled out my feelings to a bunch of internet strangers isn't it funny how i trust all of you more than me but yea there's the backstory of the emotions of this chapter yeet hope you liked it. I should probably delete the link to one of my fanfics from my youtube channel just in case anyone finds it and finds out I'm an anorexic oops probably should do that now
> 
> anyways hope you liked it!!


	13. I'm Going Numb, I've Been Hijacked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH sorry I swear I didn't die (only on the inside but we all been knew) so I'm very extremely sorry it's been a bit since the last chapter. In my defense, I'm finally studying for my driver's permit, reading Frankenstein for AP Lang, editing a Dan and Phil show vlog, practicing my digital art, and studying Scottish Gaelic (but let's be real I only studied it once but it's the effort that counts). Then again, I've had all of July and I still have August to do that, so uh I'm sorry I'm a huge nerd.
> 
> SO anyways I'm too tired to put the links before the chapter, if you've read this far you're probably fine but you can always go to the last chapter if you do get triggered or realize how fucked up eating disorders are and that you need damn help (please get help guys i love you all too much). 
> 
> So without further ado, here's the new chapter.

Ryan quickly checks the directions on his phone, locking into his head the directions. Down the street to the university, take the highway to the certain exit, down the street, turn at the ice cream shop he used to like, down to the street his school is on, trudge through the football field, and arrive at the nearby red brick house. Then, after it’s all been memorized, he shuts down his phone to avoid any risk of tracking, and gets out from behind the bush he had been plotting from behind.

It’s a longer walk than he estimated. It’s about four miles, but he’s never walked four miles all at once. Usually, he just needs to run around the school’s track three times for the mile, so theoretically it should just be like walking around the track twelve times. It doesn’t feel like that. He has no way of telling time since his smartphone has been shut off, but the road stretches on and on. Walking aside the highway filled with cars whizzing by is frightening enough on its own, but doing that as sunset starts is even more chilling. The disappearance of adrenaline leaves him empty and weary, and his stomach growls although the stomach acid in his mouth removes any slight appetite he could’ve had. Finally, two miles later, he gets to the exit. By now, his knees are aching and he has cramps all over. At the ice cream shop, he’s inhaling deeply. As he walks along the side of the school lingering of the scent of weed, he feels his heartbeat; it’s jumping all over the place.

Despite the long journey taking its toll on him, especially hard being that he has barely any calories left on him, his resilience takes him to the football field and the brick house. He has to steady himself by leaning against the door when he stops to keep himself from collapsing. It’s hard to believe; he just walked five fucking miles and somehow didn’t get lost, kidnapped, unconscious, or run over. He’ll be ecstatic to see the calories he’s burned.

Ryan presses the doorbell, praying Gerard is home. There’s a call from somewhere in the house, “Gerard, go answer the door!”, giving Ryan a sigh of relief. After a few seconds, he hears footsteps and the door opens.

“Ryan!” Gerard is surprised. “Are you okay? You look awful!”

“I just did a little bit of walking to get to your house, that’s all.” Ryan shrugs it off. “I need somewhere to stay the night, is it okay if I stay here?”

“Oh, sure, you’re always welcome to stay here.” Gerard says. “How far away is your house? I could have picked you up.”

“I kinda just walked from the hospital from visiting Brendon.” Ryan admits. “So… five miles?”

“You just walked five miles?!” Gerard demands. “Oh my god, come inside. You are eating whether you like you like it or not.”

Ryan stumbles inside, and Gerard clears some assorted drawing supplies off the couch and onto the coffee table.

“If you hear any noise, just know that Mikey is upstairs having sex with Pete.” Gerard says. “Sorry. They’ve been at it at all day, so maybe they’ll stop soon. What do you want to eat? We should probably go out to eat. They may be quiet now but just wait.”

“Let’s go out to eat, then.” Ryan agrees for sure after that explanation of Mikey and Pete’s sex life. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I don’t go out to eat much, as one would expect.”

“Okay, Denny’s isn’t too far away.” Gerard says. “Let’s go to Denny’s.”

 

**110ordeath: your phone is probably turned off so hopefully you’re able to check tumblr at some point. I heard from Spencer what happened. I hope you’re okay. Please come back. You can get help like I am, you need it and you deserve to be happy.**  
**110ordeath: I’m so worried about you**  
**110ordeath: I’m not going to break up with you, I still love you**  
**110ordeath: we can fix our relationship**  
**110ordeath: and you**  
**110ordeath: please come back ryan i need you we’re all so fucking worried please you aren’t okay your mind is malnourished you aren’t thinking clearly you need to come back please or you’ll get hurt**

 

As soon as the waiter leaves the table, Ryan leans over to whisper to Gerard.

“ _Gerard_ ,” He hisses. “All of these are too many calories. Can’t I just get a kid’s meal?”

“Ryan, you walked five damn miles.” Gerard says. “You deserve to eat. Aren’t you starving?”

“I mean…” Ryan feels the hunger pangs press harder into him like spikes, like a punishment for throwing up. “I’m not _that_ hungry.”

“Ryan, I used to be like that, and I know that’s bullshit.” Gerard pulls out his smartphone and starts typing. “One second. What’s your weight and height?”

“Why?”

“Just tell me.”

He hesitates, gritting his teeth as he admits the number he’s worked so hard for and is yet so ashamed to reveal. “120 pounds. 5’11.”

Gerard doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest, and taps it in on his phone’s keyboard. “It looks like you’ve burned about 400 calories walking from the hospital to my house. So order whatever the fuck you want.”

“Are you kidding? I thought I’d burn more!” Ryan whispers.

“You’re underweight. Your body burns less because you are literally starving.” Gerard said. “So, that’s 400 calories. Have you eaten today?”

“Kinda.”

“So you purged it?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, then you _haven’t_.” Gerard corrects. “So then it’s 400 calories plus whatever your basal metabolic rate is. You’re underweight so it’s probably around 1400, I suppose. You’re pretty tall so that also raises it. So then you’re at a 2000 calorie deficit today. You could honestly eat pretty much anything here and still be losing weight.”

“Are you going to be a fucking dietician or something?” Ryan sighs, glancing down at the menu. “Wow, my anorexia is _so_ cured by that math.”

“Ryan, I will order for you.” He threatened. “Pick something out and eat it. Please.”

“I wouldn’t want to waste your money-”

“Ryan, do you want to stay over at my house or not? Pick a food.”

Ryan defeatedly looked back down at his menu in disgust, and pointed to a picture of a stack of pancakes he supposed he could always throw up. “I’ll get this berry-covered shit.” And he slammed it closed.

“Oh, those will be a bit… crunchy.” Gerard grimaced. “But uh, yea, sure. Looks good.”

“Crunchy pancakes?”

“Yeah, I had them once. They were crunchy.”

“Fine, then. I’ll try something else then.” Ryan opens the menu again. “Okay, I know what I’ll eat now, I’ll get a salad.”

“Are you sure? The burgers look pretty appetizing.”

“I’ll eat something for breakfast tomorrow.” Ryan promised.

“Fine, then. Get a salad.”

 

Ryan’s phone is still shut off, so as soon as Gerard takes a shower, Ryan sneaks onto his laptop to log the calories. He types the URL for MyFitnessPal, and it’s already logged into Gerard’s account.

It’s not good to snoop, but Ryan doesn’t give a fuck at that moment. It seems like only thing Gerard had eaten that day was the Denny’s, and it’s a similar pattern for the last few weeks as he keeps going back and back. 200-300 calories almost every day or nothing at all. Ryan should be filled with fear that his friend has relapsed and that he’ll be in the hospital again like Brendon is pretty quickly, but there’s a thought that bears a heavier weight over his mind,

Ryan still isn’t doing good enough.

He’s not in the hospital. He’s certainly eating a couple hundred more calories than Gerard everyday. Ryan might be achingly close to his goal weight, but Gerard could probably reach that in less time.

Ryan thinks he’s losing. But really, it’s his life and not a competition he’s losing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once i went to denny's with my ex and they ordered those berry covered pancakes? they were crunchy af. also it was their literal first time eating pancakes. thanks denny's, fuck you.
> 
> anyways hope you guys enjoyed that chapter i'll try to update a lil quicker this time and we're getting super close to the end yayyy


	14. We’re So Starving

After logging in the calories from his salad, Ryan switches over to tumblr. Gerard is logged into his own, too, but it’s just one for his drawings and not thinspo luckily. At least that’s one part Ryan excels in, the aesthetic of dying.

Ryan logs off and into his tumblr account, and is greeted by the posts made by familiar accounts he hasn’t seen since last night. He scrolls a bit. Pink knee high socks on toothpick legs, a bracelet hanging loosely on a twiggy wrist, the photography adorns his already fucked brain with more impossible imagery. And then he notices there’s a message in his inbox.

_Brendon._

He reluctantly opens it, and isn’t shocked by Brendon’s ramblings. _He’s been brainwashed_ , Ryan thinks. _He’s the one not thinking clearly. Who would give up skinniness for_ food? _Weak._

He doesn’t reply. He leaves his inbox and goes back to scrolling through thinspo. An imagine about waking up on Christmas all dainty and light without creaking the floorboards, an informative post on how to hide your ED, and a ‘spell to make you skinny! Like to charge, reblog to cast!’. It’s a bit late to put any of them to good use since he’s kinda on the run, but he reblogs them anyway for his followers who aren’t as deep as him that he feels a mentor-like responsibility for. He’s even been a so-called ‘ana coach’ for a girl he knew by the alias of foreverdainty, but one day the girl’s parents found her account and angrily messaged him that he was fucked up and disgusting, and so that was the end of it. Ryan still doesn’t understand why the parents were so upset that their lonely daughter was finally making a friend.

Ryan keeps on looking through thinspo, until he hears the shower stop and he logs out, closing the laptop. Gerard comes in a minute later, his black hair dripping and a gray towel wrapped around his albeit regular-sized but thinning waist.

“You fine with me changing here?” Gerard asks. Ryan nods, saying “Yeah, cool.”

Gerard turns his back to him, rummaging in his drawers for a shirt and pajama pants. Ryan’s eyes can’t help but look over his body, and a feeling of lust fills him. He doesn’t feel guilty in the slightest. Brendon isn’t Brendon anymore without being 110ordeath. Their relationship is done.

Gerard’s body glistens with drops of water, and the smell of shampoo wafts over.

_Fuck Brendon_ , Ryan thinks, _fuck him._

And so he makes a bold proposal.

“You look nice shirtless.” Ryan comments.

Gerard looks over, and sees Ryan’s eyes flick up from admiring his back. “Thanks.”

“You know what would be good revenge on Mikey for having sex all day with Pete?”

Gerard turned around, smirking and dropping the shirt he had been holding back in the drawer. “And what is that?”

“Sex.” Ryan suggested.

Gerard feels suddenly a bit warmer at that prospect. “I think that would be fun.” 

Ryan walks over, and places a kiss on Gerard’s lips. Their lips move against each other, not as nearly as electrocuting as Brendon’s but good enough. The kiss becomes heated, and they get closer and closer, leaving no room for Jesus. Gerard’s kisses run down Ryan’s neck, and Ryan ‘accidentally’ pushes down his towel to the floor. Gerard hasn’t had sex since his fight with Frank, and for Ryan, before the certain event, Brendon was always too exhausted to do anything for a few weeks. They’ve been craving the contact of someone for a while.

Gerard pushes Ryan onto his bed, climbing over him and placing more kisses, pulling down his jeans and yanking off his shirt. The house is filled with the sounds of Gerard’s bed creaking through the night and Ryan’s loud moaning of “Fuck, Gerard, keep going— fuckkkk” that cross the walls.

Mikey and Pete do start to regret their decision to have sex all day, and can’t get much sleep. And Ryan gets revenge on Brendon, and Gerard gets some sexy Ryan Ross thinspo, so it’s a win-win.

 

Meanwhile, Brendon is kept awake by Ryan. He no longer feels the pangs of hunger but the pangs of worry and despair. As his mind becomes more and more fueled, he can easily overthink. Ryan could be sleeping under a bridge or in a bush. He could be shivering, starving, and frightened, kept awake as Brendon is. The vision of Ryan slowly dying on the side of the street shakes Brendon to the bone, but there’s nothing he can do but let tears roll down his cheek. Unknown to him, Ryan is safe, warm, and well fed— if one considers how much he usually eats.

The only problem that Brendon should be worried about is that Ryan is curled up in _Gerard’s_ embrace under _Gerard’s_ duvet in _Gerard’s_ house after he had sex with _Gerard’s_ dick, pressing kisses to _Gerard’s_ lips. Yet, Brendon is in the dark and still worried about his traitor of a boyfriend.

 

The next day Ryan refuses to go to school, and Gerard gives up on trying to make him go. So he hands him a bowl of cereal and orange while it’s still dark, and finally Ryan eats it when Gerard assured him the cereal is only 110 calories per cup and the milk is almond milk.

“Stay in my room except to use the bathroom.” Gerard instructs. “And stay away from the windows. Nobody knows you’re here and I’m guessing you want to keep it that way. Mikey already asked me this morning if I made up with Frank, but he doesn’t seem to suspect anything.”

“Sure, sounds good.” Ryan obeys. “Have fun at school, dude.”

“See ya.” Gerard waves, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “Kiss before I go or was it a one time thing?”

“Let’s kiss.”

Gerard sits down next to where Ryan is sitting on the bed, places his hand under his jaw, and kisses him for half a minute before leaving.

The day goes swimmingly. Ryan showers, wears one of Gerard’s shirts while his clothes from the prior day are washed, and scrolls through thinspo and watches YouTube on Gerard’s laptop. Gerard calls the Alexa in the kitchen once or twice to check on Ryan and make sure he eats lunch, which Ryan does. He can only eat an apple, but that’s enough progress to Gerard for now.

 

The news spreads around school like a moths to a flame. Brendon Urie is in the hospital for ‘private causes’, the principal announces to everyone over the loudspeaker. Everyone knows how skinny he’s been getting recently though and rumors start to go around. Some kids say he fainted in gym class because he has cancer. Others say that he fainted because he’s been self-harming too much. A few think the gym class thing is a ruse and that he attempted suicide and it’s (not the first) school’s attempt at pretending everything is fine.

Ryan Ross has also become reported as missing. The principal says he’s in serious danger and if anyone sees him that they should report it to the police. He was last seen at the hospital.

Rumors also spread about Ryan. Some say he was so distraught after seeing his boyfriend in the hospital that he ran off to kill himself. Others say he was kidnapped.

Before second period, fliers are already affixed to the walls of the school. The teacher’s union wishes Brendon well and a speedy recovery, and the Bible club puts up a signs with bible quotes for him even though Brendon quit a long time ago because his parents were forcing him to go when they were still around.

Meanwhile, there’s even more posters with Ryan’s face on it and numbers to call and a description of him everywhere. They’re in the bathrooms, the hallways, and hanging in the classrooms as a haunting reminder that Ryan is gone.

Unfortunately, Spencer is the one that has to clear all of it up. He thought he would be sitting alone at the lunch table today, but students keep coming over out of curiosity to hope he can tell anything about Brendon and Ryan.

“No, he doesn’t have cancer.” Spencer says. “And before you ask, he doesn’t self harm or have suicidal thoughts. He’ll be back to school eventually, he’s fine.”

“Ok, so how’s Ryan? Have you heard anything?” The jock asks. “Did he actually run off to commit suicide?”

“I don’t know.” Spencer says. “It’s private what happened. I know as much about where he is as everyone does. Why do even care so much?”

“I’m just so worried, you know? Anything could be happening to him.”

“You called him a ‘fatass faggot’ a year ago when he accidentally bumped into you.”

“Yeah, but I learned a lot from that hour with the school counselor.”

“And then you called him a ‘scrawny dyke’ a few days after.”

“I learned a lot after that experience.”

“Just go away.” Spencer says. “You know all you need to know now.”

“Fine.” The guy rolls his eyes and gets up to go back to his own table, and whispers under his breath, “fag.” It takes all of Spencer’s willpower to not scream at him that after he called Ryan a ‘fatass ___’, Ryan’s stomach had constantly growled and all of a sudden Spencer could see the bones in his hand, and Spencer had no idea how much he was really suffering at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW
> 
> So Ryan and Gerard just had sex??? Damn I bet you all didn’t expect that did ya


	15. Lately It Seems Like Everybody's Sick Everybody's Dying

“I can’t believe you’re fucking doing this to yourself again!” Frank had screamed at Gerard. “You’re not eating anything! You need to take care of yourself!”

“Babe, it’s fine.” Gerard assured him. “I’m eating, I swear.”

“Those jeans used to be tighter on you.” Frank said. “They’re supposed to be skinny jeans. I can barely even see your ass in them anymore.”

“These ones are tight!” Gerard gestured to his legs.

“You bought them yesterday! What size are they? Tell me.”

“It’s not of your business.”

“Gerard, just fucking tell me.”

There’s silence for a moment as Gerard’s empty eyes stare at Frank. “Small.”

Frank picks up his coat and grabs his shoes. “I’m leaving.”

“What?!”

“I can’t fucking stand this anymore.” Frank said. “You’ve been doing this on and off since middle school, and I’ve supported you each time you tried to recover and then you always relapse.”

“That’s not my fault!”

“And I’m fucking tired of watching you be built up again just to fall.” Frank said. “You’re on your own until you decide to actually do something about piece-of-shit mind.”

Frank slammed the door.

 

It’s been almost a month since their fight, and the silence as Frank and Gerard sit as far away from each other is still incredibly awkward for everyone at their lunch table. Gerard feels even more uncomfortable around him now considering he’s kinda having some sort of affair with Ryan Ross.

“So, um…” Ray asks. “Have you guys talked recently?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Frank says, sending a glare to Gerard and the Mac & cheese he’s been rearranging with his fork.

“Oh.” Ray says. “Well, you guys hear anything else about Ryan or Brendon?”

“No, why should I know anything about them?” Gerard says a little too defensively.

“Sorry. I know you hang out with _Ryan_ , so we should have guessed it’s a sore subject.” Frank says. “What was going on between you two, anyways? You guys are always hanging around each other. A bit too much, more than most friends do.”

“Are you insinuating there’s something between me and Ryan?” Gerard asks. Sure, he’s had a growing feeling of want for Ryan since they’ve grown closer and further from Frank, but he didn’t ever act on those feelings because of Brendon until last night. “Because there isn’t.”

“Yea, there isn’t, Ryan’s missing and whoever Gerard was with last night wasn’t him.” Pete comments. Frank looks stunned, and looks over at Gerard. He shouldn’t have said that. “Shit.”

“You had sex with someone else last night?” Frank asks.

Gerard quickly shakes his head. “No.”

Frank knows the way his hands tense up when he’s lying from all the times Gerard’s lied about food. “You had sex with someone else?!”

“You know what? Yeah. I did.” Gerard admits. “You broke up with me, it’s none of your business.”

“I thought we were on a break?”

“You didn’t make that very clear when you walked out of my house and can barely acknowledge my existence.”

“I just need space!”

“No, you told me you couldn’t deal with me anymore.”

“Guys, could we save this for later?” Mikey asks, as Gerard and Frank’s fighting starts to draw attention.

Mikey is ignored.

“I should have known by the way you’re always longingly gazing at Ryan, thinking, ‘Oh, Ryan, please fuck me!’”

“Maybe I _did_ fuck Ryan Ross!” Gerard yells at Frank. “And it was hella better than any sex we ever had!”

The whole cafeteria is silent. Spencer stares from across the room at Gerard in shock, thinking that Gerard and Ryan must have had sex while Ryan and Brendon were dating (which, technically, isn’t wrong). Ryan cheated on Brendon.

Gerard sees Spencer’s stare. It’s probably best for Gerard to leave and calm down, and so he does. He gets up, walks out of the cafeteria to the bathroom, and shoves his fingers down his throat.

 

Spencer walks down the hall to Brendon’s room, thinking of how to tell him that Ryan probably cheated on him. Maybe it would be best to wait until Ryan returned and was well again to explain it. But Brendon deserves to know, doesn’t he?

Spencer walks into Brendon’s room. He looks so much better than yesterday. The hollows under his eyes have filled out and color has returned to his ghastly skin. He’s eating a snack of chocolate chip cookies, almost too easily. And while he’s happy for him, it hardly feels fair that a higher power has currently doomed Ryan to probably being on the street and far worse, which is what everyone thinks.

“Hey, Spence!” Brendon smiles. “These cookies are so fucking good, too bad I can’t share them with you. Stupid strict diet plan, ya know? Any news on Ryan?”

“No.” Spencer shakes his head. “But you’ll be the first to know when we find him.”

“Damn.” Brendon sighs. “I thought he would have been found by now.”

“They’ll find him, I’m sure of it.” Spencer reassured, even though he really isn’t that sure. “The police are doing everything they can.”

“How do we know that?”

“He’s white, for one thing.”

“Yeah, I guess that helps.” Brendon takes a rougher bite of his cookie, and sighs. “Ugh, I forgot how good cookies taste, man. I thought hospital food would be shit, but oh my god, this cookie is delicious.”

“That’s nice. Um, there’s something I should tell you.”

“Oh my god, did you and Linda break up?” Brendon demands. “I knew it wouldn’t last. She is such a b-”

“Brendon!” Spencer interrupts. “We didn’t break up! Linda and I are doing great.”

“Oh, then what could it be?” Brendon asks.

“There’s no easy way for me to say this, but…”

“Come on, spill the tea.”

“I think Ryan cheated on you.”

 

At the same moment, Mikey and Gerard sit at the dinner table, waiting for their parents to finish up dinner. 

“Pete said he’s really sorry.” Mikey says. “It really sucks what happened at lunch today. It’s not your fault Frank was being such a dick.”

“Thanks.” Gerard says. “I’ll tell Pete I forgive him after dinner. I know he didn’t mean it.”

“So… who was it you were hooking up with last night, anyway?”

“Nobody you would know.” Gerard says. “Some dude from our rival school.”

“Oh, how did you guys meet?”

“Homecoming game.” Gerard says.

“Cool, you guys dating or what?”

“Nah, just a one-time thing.”

“So, uh… when did you hook up with Ryan?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’ll invite Pete over if you don’t tell me.”

“Mikey!”

“I just wanna know. I tell you whenever me and Pete have a fight.”

“Yeah, and it’s always about some sex thing that I don’t want to hear about.”

“Not _always_.”

“It’s always. I’m gonna go tell mom and dad to stop canoodling and hurry up with dinner.”

“Gerard, I just want to know if Ryan cheated on Brendon.”

Gerard pauses, and chooses his words wisely. Over the course of their friendship, he’s been drawn to Ryan like a bee to pollen; and Brendon doesn’t understand Ryan like Gerard will ever, anyway. Ryan did _so much_ for Brendon, and now Brendon was probably blaming his hospital stay on Ryan. Ryan deserves better, and maybe their friends with benefits relationship could become something more.

“Yes, he did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys i'm back from greece!! I did lots of writing on the plane (it took like three separate flights to get home lol so basically i was travelling for nearly 24 hours i guess??) so there's plenty of good shit ahead to come ;) unfortunately, school starts soon :( but since i've gotten great at prewriting chapters and getting ahead on my writing this year, hopefully my intense schedule (9 classes, 3 are AP, and no fucking lunch, welcome to america) and other activities won't interfere with writing. 
> 
> Also!! 1 week until I see Fall Out Boy in Buffalo!! None of you are probably going but uhhh if you are, you should lemme know because idk it would be cool to meet someone who's read this irl?? Like I wanna know what you guys are like and be friends with you and comfort you (cuz let's be honest normal people don't read many fanfics about anorexia ya know). I've got a fall out boy crop top which i'm gonna wear a shirt under (i'm just not skinny enough ok) and purple fishnet socks and i'll probably wear a cute skirt or shorts with that (idk what i'll do with my hair yet rip) but hopefully it'll look rad af and pete wentz will dick me down even though i'm lesbian and nearly 17 but i can dream ok
> 
> ALSO THE HIGH HOPES MUSIC VIDEO WAS GREAT i was like "ok so brendon's gonna go in there- OMG WAIT WHAT" not to spoil it or anything if you somehow haven't seen it but i was shooketh (also why is everyone releasing stuff?? bmth released mantra, fob released lake effect kid ep, idkhbtfm released do it all the time, p!atd did the high hopes music video, and then top released my blood?? is mcr gonna come back too this week?? like damn)
> 
> anyways i hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	16. Put Another X On The Calendar

“He _what_?” Brendon asked.

“Ryan cheated on you.” The words came uneasily from Spencer’s mouth again. “I’m so sorry, Brendon.”

“Have you known about this the whole time?”

“No, it was just today at lunch I found out.” Spencer explained. “Frank and Gerard were having one of their quarrels again, and it slipped out that Gerard had sex with Ryan.”

The room is silent except for the whirring of machines that have kept Brendon tethered to life for the past week that he now wants to rip out of his flesh. “Shit.”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer says. “Maybe I should have waited for Ryan to tell you himself or something, but I figured you get the news eventually one way or another, and you would probably prefer it from me.”

“No, it’s fine, Spence. None of this is your fault.” Brendon assures him. “I’m glad you told me. I’m only pissed at Ryan.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve got time until he’s found.” Brendon plays with the wires stuck in his arms, and stops when he winces in pain by accidentally pushing it in. “I can’t pretend it never happened. Everyone at school will be talking about it.”

“Your relationship was already unhealthy as it was....” Spencer mentions. “It might be best for you guys to be friends again.”

“Do you think that’s why he cheated on me?” Brendon asks. “Because I was calling him fat all the time? And we were always starving ourselves? Do you think he just wanted someone… normal?”

Spencer can’t confirm to him, _yeah, that’s actually sounding about right_ , so it’s tricky for him to choose his answer. “Well… I don’t know. It might be not that. But it’s possible.”

“Yeah, so then it is that.” Brendon says.

“So, you guys are gonna talk about when he gets back, right?”

“No?” Brendon snickers. “That’s ridiculous. I’d be fucking stupid not to break up with him.”

 

Ryan’s been in Gerard’s house for a few days, and he’s gotten used to the routine of hiding. In the morning he waits until everyone has left for work and school to use the bathroom, then he eats whatever fruit Gerard left for him for breakfast. He stays in Gerard’s room, watching YouTube and maybe a few Khan Academy videos to stay caught up on school. He flushes whatever sandwich Gerard made for him down the toilet, avoiding the windows. Usually, Gerard’s parents come home late and Mikey is always at Pete’s house, so Gerard and Ryan will do some fucking and then Gerard forces him to eat whatever leftovers are in the fridge. Then they sleep together in Gerard’s bed and let the cycle continue.

Ryan knows it can’t last forever. Yet, there’s a false hope that he’ll become extra skinny and start a new life with a fake name as a model or something. He misses his parents and his friends, but it doesn’t matter anymore. They don’t understand him, and they just want to drag him down with them. At least he has Gerard, and Gerard fucking understands.

It’s the part of the cycle where Ryan waits for Gerard to come home, since school has just ended according to the clock. He spins in the desk chair, venturing into the hallway every few minutes to look out at the window to see when Gerard’s car is in the driveway.

Finally, he hears a car from outside, and the door swing open. “I’m home!” Gerard calls out, running up the stairs. “Let’s fucking do this! Mikey’ll be busy studying with Pete for a few hours.”

 

**xxskinnyboy**

**it’s been a rough week. I’m kinda on the run rn, they found out about me. I’m safe with a friend, don’t worry, so I’ll still be posting thinspo regularly and messaging all my buds if anyone cares. Also I’m so close to my ugw!!! 1 more pound guys!! Thank you for sticking with me on this journey <3**

**~ xxskinnyboy**

 

“Safe, with a friend?” Brendon asks. “Which fucking friend? There’s no way he’s safe anyways, if he’s still starving himself.”

“I wish I knew.” Spencer says. “Who do you think it is?”

“Hopefully not some creepy dude in the middle of nowhere.” Brendon says. “So, we have to find him. Obviously. So I can break up with him and tell him how much I hate him.”

“Whatever you say.” Spencer says. “Ryan is a smart dude, so it’s gotta be someone we know. But who?”

“Maybe Dallon?” Brendon suggests.

“I went to his house yesterday for studying. He was pretty chill, it didn’t seem like he was hiding anyone at all.”

“Maybe he’s with Gerard.” Brendon laughs. “Fuck no, I doubt it. You know how slutty that would be, even for him?”

“Brendon, I know you’re mad at him, but you’ve got to stop being so salty.” Spencer says. “Maybe it could be Gerard’s?”

“You think so?”

“I’m going to call Mikey right now, and ask him to check around his house.” Spencer takes out his cellphone and waves it in the air, then goes to Mikey’s contact info and press the green call button. “Let’s hope he’s not busy fucking Pete.”

The phone rings for a while, and it seems like Mikey probably is busy fucking Pete because it’s infamous that’s the only time he’s away from his phone, but on the last ring he finally picks up.

“Hey, Spencer.” Mikey says wearily. “Is something wrong with our music theory project or something? ‘Cause it’s due tomorrow, right? I finished my part.”

“No, the music theory project is fine. It’s about something else.” Spencer says. “This is going to sound weird, but we need you to check around your house for Ryan.”

“What?”

“Ryan posted something on his private blog about being safe with a friend. And the only person that we can really think of is Gerard, since they fucked and everything, and Ryan doesn’t have a lot of other close friends other than me and Brendon.”

“Well,” Mikey considers it for a second. “I’m already kinda half-naked on Pete’s bed? And I would know if there was someone in my house, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fuck him later.” Spencer says. “Please, if Ryan really is in there, we don’t know how much time we have left. He has an eating disorder, and last time we saw him, it was getting really bad. Anything could happen if we’re not quick enough.”

There’s silence for a few minutes, and Pete in the background says, “We should check, just in case.”

“Yeah, I guess we should.” Mikey says in the distance, and then holds up his phone back to his ear. “Okay, we’re on our way to my house now. I’ll call you later, see ‘ya.”

“Thank you so much.”

 

Gerard’s finger hooks under Ryan’s jeans, attempting to push them off as best as he can. It’s actually quite hard, because Gerard’s sitting on top of Ryan, who is sitting on his desk chair.

“What do you think you feel like today?” Gerard seductively asks, reaching his hand into Ryan’s pants and sliding it near his crotch, eliciting a moan from him.

“I think I feel like however hard you feel like fucking me.” Ryan answers.

Gerard is about to whisper something into his ear, when he hears clamoring from downstairs, the distinct shutting of the front door, and chatter. “Shit, I think someone’s home. Mikey probably just forgot his keys or something, they’ll be gone soon.”

They continue quietly, but all too soon, footsteps come pounding up the stairs.

There’s a knock at Gerard’s door, and Gerard bolts up off Ryan’s lap to let Ryan slip into the closet.

“What is it?” Gerard calls out.

“I forgot something in your room!” Mikey says from the other side.

“Yeah, I’ll get it for you, what is it?”

“That shirt I let you borrow.”

“Why do you need it now?”

“Me and Pete are going on a date later and I want to wear that specific shirt.”

“Okay, I’ll grab it for you.” Gerard calls out. He snatches up a band t-shirt lying on his dresser, making sure the closet is closed with a quick look, and then opens the bedroom door to give the shirt to Mikey. Mikey is standing there, with Pete at his side, and frowns at the shirt.

“That’s not it.” Mikey says. “Don’t you remember that shirt I let you borrow a few months ago or something?”

“No, I don’t borrow many of your clothes, because I actually wash mine.” Gerard chucks the shirt at Mikey. “Here.”

“I’m sure it’s buried in your room somewhere, if you just let me take a look.”

“Not right now, I’m busy.” Gerard says. “I’m doing homework, I can’t have anyone distracting me.”

“We won’t be much of a bother.” Pete begs. “C’mon, we’ll be quick.”

“I’m _busy_.”

“Just let me see if it’s in your closet or not.” Mikey shoves past him to the closet, and Gerard’s breath is immediately held and his heart racing. _He’s going to find Ryan, he’s going to find him…._

Mikey pries open the closet doors, looking around and through the clothing on the hangers. His search turns up fruitless, and a few seconds later, he closes the closet. “Fuck, maybe it’s not in here. Thanks anyway, Gerard.”

“No problem, see you later.”

When Pete and Mikey finally leave the house, after for some reason looking in every room for that damn shirt, Gerard opens the closet. “You’re good, Ryan. Where the fuck where you hiding?”

Ryan pops out from the clothes hamper, shirts and socks falling off his head. “Right here. Damn, being skinny can really get you anywhere, can’t it?”

“Like on your lap?” Gerard teasingly asks.

“Even better, in my ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School starts tomorrow (ugh) but I've actually been super productive and finished my AP Lang essay and sorted out my backpack and picked out my outfits for the first 2 days, so I'm in a good mood. I woke up early today though so my brain feels like it should be dinner even though its almost 4 PM, ugh. Anyways I saw Fall Out Boy on Sunday and omg they were very good, this is a ryden fanfic tho so I doubt a lot of you wanna hear about it but I'm seeing Panic in January so ;)
> 
> anyways looks like ryan somehow avoided capture this time and brendon kinda despises him, oof. let's see if he gets found anytime soon ;)


	17. And Who Cares Divine Intervention

Today marks one week and three days that Ryan Ross has been missing. Brendon’s physically well enough to leave the hospital and go to a mental hospital, so he bequeaths his phone to Spencer since he’s not allowed to keep it there and he doesn’t trust any of his relatives with the content on there that ranges from erotic pictures of Ryan to fucked up anorexia memes.

That leaves Spencer being the only one to dutifully watch Ryan’s blog. Everyday it’s the same shit that makes him feel saddened inside, from underweight ballerina gifs to his food diary. There’s no more information that’s been revealed about where he is, and Spencer waits achingly with notifications on so that as soon as Ryan accidentally spills any tidbit of information, Spencer can track him down.

It’s been established that Ryan most likely isn’t staying with Gerard, and Mikey and Pete have left it at that with no further suspicions. Ryan makes sure to stay even more quiet and cautious from then on, spending many days in Gerard’s closet and only getting out to use the bathroom and hang out with Gerard. Gerard’s moved an old beanbag chair from the basement and a lamp in there to make it comfier, along with a bag full of snacks from the convenience store like chips and chocolate and soda that Ryan’s frail fingers don’t dare to even go near.

Lunch has settled into the same old lull, except there’s even more tension between Frank and Gerard. They never talk or even contribute to the same conversation; sometimes Frank holds up a french fry or tater tot in Gerard’s direction to offer it to him, but Gerard always looks away and continues adjusting his salad or tossing his apple or doing his homework.

 

It’s been two weeks now, and posters of Ryan are up everywhere. They’re in the Walmart Gerard goes to, on the street lamp near where Spencer buys his weed, at Dallon’s church, and you can’t walk into a hall or classroom of the school without seeing Ryan’s face, his name, his height, his weight, his eye color, his last known whereabouts, where he’s suspected to be. Nobody at school can go a day thinking about him, but the school has already returned to a casual atmosphere. Yeah, it’s sad what happened to Ryan, but for most people, they saw something like this coming considering that everyone had silently watched his mental health crumble without knowing until it hit a breaking point. It’s high school-- and tragic things happen in the crushing stress of the American school system. Students commit suicide, students are killed in school shootings, students are killed in car crashes, students are killed by overdosing and alcohol poisoning and drowning and abuse. And as much as people advocate all the solutions that aren’t working- going outside, wearing bulletproof backpacks, making 21 the legal drinking age, it won’t stop until someone listens to the better solutions that are ridiculed.

Ryan’s just another victim of it. The pressure by society to be fit, the stigma of males with eating disorders, and tumblr’s loose control of the proana community that just keeps creating new accounts to congregate on and ignoring the warnings on tags are just only a few causes. There’s nothing nobody can do now for him but pray and keep an eye for him; everyone is far too busy. The holidays are approaching, along with midterms, and the juniors need to research colleges and keep their grades high, while the seniors are waiting anxiously for admission letters, and the freshmen don’t care, and the sophomores are busy losing their virginity. Ryan might as well be gone, and the members of the yearbook committee are already unknowingly thinking of the size of the tribute to him on a page.

While everyone begins to lose themselves in school again, those closest to Ryan are getting more anxious. Ryan’s parents show pictures of him to everyone from their work friends to grocery store cashiers, and Brendon rants on and on about Ryan to the group therapy and denies missing or being worried for him despite the nausea forming when he goes off on another tangent, and Mikey’s started to be around the house a few minutes more just in case, and Spencer is crying over his chemistry homework and wishing Ryan was there to explain it and tell him it’s not hard.

While some around Gerard grow more wary and hopeless, he’s inordinately chill. He doesn’t talk about Ryan a lot, and more about art college. Maybe Gerard’s just good at being positive, but to Frank, something’s just not right.

 

He awakes with a nudge at 4 AM.

“Brendon, we need to check your vitals, and then you can go back to sleep until breakfast.” The nurse, some bitch named Sandra, says.

“Fuck.” Brendon rubs his eyes and sits up. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The nurse walks out of the room, and Brendon’s roommate, a burly guy named Zach who’s been checked in for bulimia, grabs his glasses and yawns. “Morning, Beebo.”

“Shut up with the nicknames, man.” Brendon sighs. Zack’s the only other boy in the eating disorder ward of the mental hospital, and so they’ve of course been paired together. He’s probably not that bad of a guy, but the whole vibe of the hospital makes him hate everyone since it’s all-or-nothing. The patients aren’t too bad. There’s an orthorexic that yells about her hatred of Sea World in Thai, a lactose-intolerant anorexic ballerina that keeps getting yelled at for dancing outside of recreational time, a kosher anorexic girl that can speak 4 languages fluently, a basic popular girl with a tan and a poster of Palaye Royale in her room that she won’t admit is pretty emo, a scrawny butch lesbian that kept suggesting Love, Simon during movie time last night and flirts with the kosher linguist, and oh yeah, Zack’s there too. Once he had found out Brendon’s middle name is Boyd, he began calling him Beebo.

While all the patients are nice and understanding, Brendon hates the nurses with a passion. The woman who runs group therapy is fine, but that’s where it ends. When Nurse Emily suggested Brendon have a little more of his protein shake, he got lowkey pissed and poured it on the floor. When the art therapist told Brendon he couldn’t just sculpt turtles for the emotions prompt, he covered the computer screen in clay when she left for one minute. When his social worker, Jim, told him he should stop taking out his emotions on everyone and use other outlets, Brendon wrote a song about how Jim should fuck himself in music therapy. Then when the support dogs came in, he snuck one into his room and refused to tell how. All this in two days, and Brendon still doesn’t understand how he’s still planned to be released in a few weeks on time because he’s been following his meal plan and he was doing amazing at the regular hospital.

So, Brendon feels like it’s rational to let himself tell Zack to go fuck himself whenever he calls him Beebo. However, he’s too tired to tell him to fuck himself today.

“I hope you bleed out while your blood is getting taken because Sandra is a vampire.” Brendon mumbles.

“Not gonna lie, she totally is.”

“Fuck yourself.” Maybe not _that_ tired, but still pretty tired.

 

“Hey, Gerard!” As soon as Chemistry ends and the bell rings for the end of the days, Frank yanks his coat out of his locker and runs out to where Gerard is getting in his car. “Can we talk?”

Gerard looks up at him through his car window, biting his lips pale from the December chill, and rolls down the window. “Sure, get in. The car’s warming up.”

All Gerard’s expecting is probably an apology and a formal break-up, so he unlocks the side door. Frank runs around to the other side and gets in, throwing his backpack into the back seat, and slamming the car door shut. Frank peels off his coat, and relaxes into the seat, staring at the brick of the school in front of the parking spot. Gerard taps on the wheel, takes a deep breath, and faces Frank.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” Gerard asks.

“I don’t like how we ended things.” Frank states, staring into the brick and then into his eyes. “It pains myself for us to be repelling each other when I love you so much. And I shouldn’t have said all the things I’ve said. I love you, and I hope you still love me, and I’ll forget about you having sex with Ryan and put that in the past. I want to get back together.”

_Yikes_ , Gerard thinks. He’s kinda in a weird and complicated relationship-thing with Ryan. It’s mostly sex and kissing, and maybe there’s some emotional bond there. Yet, there’s no way it can replace what him and Frank had. Him and Frank had been best friends for years beforehand, and they had been together for years. They went to homecoming, concerts, and dates. Ryan couldn’t go to any concerts, or on any dates while he was locked up in Gerard’s room without risk of being recognized.

Ryan and Gerard had only really known each other for a few months, and he couldn’t see himself going anywhere with him. He just felt bad for him.

“I want that, too.” Gerard said, holding out his hand for Frank. Frank eagerly grasped it, intertwining their fingers, and they leaned in to kiss.

 

**3:32 PM**  
**gerard_comics: hey Ryan I’m gonna be at a classmates house for a project today, I’ll be back late  
xxskinnyboy: sure, who’s it with and when will ya be back**

**3:42 PM  
xxskinnyboy: hey Gerard reply pls**

**8:55 PM  
xxskinnyboy: gerard when are you gonna be home it’s almost 9**

**9:02 PM  
xxskinnyboy: dude where are you**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized there's not any ryan in this chapter oops lol, but you'll see plenty of him in the next chapter. So, it seems like everyone isn't too well and now Gerard is kinda 'cheating' on him, let's see what happens ;)
> 
> also school started and it succs and I hate public school. I honestly want it to hurry up and be over so I can just move to England already. Good news though, I've been practicing my art more and I'm taking 2 art classes this year, so my art is improving and I'm more hopeful that I'll get into my dream university and that's what's keeping me positive right now because almost everyone is shit rn. I'm also taking AP Lang this year and we're learning a lot about creative writing actually, so maybe you'll see a huge jump in the quality of my writing in the next few months I hope!
> 
> oh yeah, and I've kinda relapsed. It's not like I was trying to recover, but I redownloaded tumblr and I'm eating less and keeping track of my steps again. So yea that's not so great. Me and my irl friend started doing a diet and I feel like shit because she had to quit because she started purging again. I'm a fucking piece of shit. I can't do anything right. I can see why nobody wants to hang out with me anymore.
> 
>  
> 
> ANYWAYS i hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	18. We're Lost In A Dream Now

It’s understandably hard for Gerard to tell Ryan the truth. However, it isn’t understandable that he still hasn’t told him that he’s gotten back together with Frank, and yet is still having sex with Ryan.

Gerard had returned home at 9:21 PM that night, with ruffled hair and in a rush to finish his homework. A bit suspicious, but Ryan figured he shouldn’t question it and risk losing his safety.

However, the next night he arrives home late. The next is the same. The weekend is spent with Ryan alone in the closet, and he’s only had sex with him once (not even very good sex) since the night he returned home late. He should be happy, he hasn’t been forced to eat very much even though the bag of junk food next to him is tempting.

But he’ll have plenty of time to eat it when he’s skinny.

 

Ryan creeps into the bathroom, stepping on the scale. It’s been a while since he’s dared to even open the bathroom closet and slip it out, and raising his foot above it to step on it is an even heavier burden. It’s been too long since he’s weighed himself, too long. He hasn’t weighed himself since before he ran away, and the food Gerard had made him force down his throat, being even more compelling than his own mother, had creepingly probably built up on him.

He does it in a hurry, so he doesn’t have time to think about the harsh consequences of eating he’s about to face.. He yanks it out, slams it on the floor, and steps onto it. The number reads _112.3 lbs._

He stares at it, and realizes it; he’s 3 pounds below his ugw!

Pride and joy bubble up in him, and he steps on and off the scale again and again to make sure it’s right. He even places Gerard’s approximately 3 pound laptop on it to see that it’s correct, and it is.

Ryan dances around the bathroom, “Holy shit! I did it! I’m skinny! Fuck yeah! Fuck Brendon!”

He ventures out of the bathroom to find Gerard, to tell him of the overjoyous news that will surely make him proud of him.

A sticky note is affixed on the desk, which Ryan hadn’t noticed when he sprinted into the bedroom in glee to grab the laptop.

_hey Ryan! Had to leave in a hurry, school project emergency. I’ll be back tonight, my mom’s coming home in an hour so make yourself a sandwich before then. Love ya <3 _

He bites his chapped lip, and presses the note back down onto the desk, smoothing it down until he can will back his tears.

Ryan accomplished his dream; he’s skinny, and nobody is here to congratulate him.

 

Not even the mirror is a place of solace. He still looks just as fat as when he started and only a little bit slimmer (but maybe Gerard’s mirror is one of those that fools you like that), and there’s so much he can still pinch and pull and slap. He doesn’t even feel ethereal when he glides across the floors, and the mattress still shakes ever so much when he jumps onto the bed. He doesn’t hold a coffee mug with dainty fingers or have a wristband slip off because it’s too large. He still doesn’t feel like a real anorexic.

He writes a tumblr post, creating a visage. He doesn’t talk about how unhappy he is. He doesn’t say he still looks so fucking gross and huge and like a human blimp. He lies and confirms all the false hopes he had held. He adds a few faceless photos to the post and hopes it’s good enough, then posts. Almost immediately, he gets notes. Over the hour, they count up by the hundreds. It’s rare someone in the community gets to their ugw, for obvious reasons. And yet, Ryan feels like he doesn’t deserve them.

He had promised himself at the beginning of this that he would go and eat a massive chocolate cake with Brendon and Spencer, while they pressed to know how he was so good at losing weight. The whole entire cake in one sitting, and let his baggy sweater cover up his bloated belly.

He can’t even bring himself to make the sandwich or gorge on the junk food. Instead, he sits in the closet, weeping.

He needs to work harder.

 

Spencer is awoken in the middle of the night, his smartphone incessantly ringing. He groans, propping himself up on one elbow and unplugging his phone from the charging cord. He drags it across the dresser, and flips the phone up to see that Mikey is calling him at 1:05 in the morning.

He answers, and immediately says, “Mikey! How are you not tired? Go to sleep?”

“Have you seen Ryan’s new post?”

“What?!” Spencer is immediately awake, slams the speaker button, and scrambles for his laptop under the bed. He pries open the laptop and his fingers fly across the keyboard, squinting at the blue-tinted glow in the darkness while Mikey speaks.

“He posted pictures of himself.” Mikey says. “He’s at his goal weight, dude. But look at the bathroom he posted them in!”

When Ryan’s tumblr blog loads, Spencer gasps. His spine pokes out, his ribs carve into his flesh, dimples engrave the hollows of where fat once was. His fingers look so far apart like the phone is even slipping out of his hand, and his neck is merely the size of the young tree in his front yard. However, nothing in the bathroom looks out of the ordinary. It’s painted a faint yellow, with a glossy mirror and one toothpaste stain in the corner. The shower curtain to the bathtub is drawn, a duck printed on it, and gleaming tile adorning around the tub.

“What about the bathroom?”

“Dude, you seriously don’t remember _my bathroom_?”

It takes a few seconds for Spencer to comprehend. “Holy shit!”

He had only seen Mikey’s bathroom once or twice while doing study groups or during parties in a drunken state, but images of him vomiting his alcohol into that same toilet quickly come flashing back.

“I’m calling the police right now.” Spencer says.

“No, Pete’s doing it right now, come over and see him before he gets locked up in the hospital for months.” 

“Sure.” Spencer springs up from his bed and grabs his coat off the floor, and searches for his boots. “I’ll be there in 5.”

He hangs up, grabbing his keys and running out to his car. He’s surprised his mom does immediately run outside and yell at him at the car lights flooding into the master bedroom and the sudden noise of the engine in the blissful night.

 

“Ryan… Ryan…” A light hand shakes his shoulder. Ryan yawns, his eyes tightly shut. Gerard must finally be home. Fucking finally, it’s about time.

He blinks open his eyes. Once. Twice. Rubs them wearily. It looks like Gerard’s face while his eyes adjust to the sudden blinding light in the closet. His eyes adjust. Gerard doesn’t have brown, floppy hair. Gerard doesn’t wear glasses. Gerard doesn’t own those pajamas.

Mikey Way does.

Ryan’s startled, and bolts up, accidentally slamming himself into the wall in the process. “Fuck. No, no, no.”

“Ryan, calm down. It’s ok. I’m not mad.” Mikey assures.

The words blur in Ryan’s ears to be inaudible while his mind has other things to focus on, like getting the fuck out of here.

Ryan veers to the side and makes a run for it. His ever-so-slow heart pumps harder than it ever has before. Ryan flees across the room, Mikey surprised for a second and then following after.

Ryan races into the hall, socks slipping on the smooth hardwood.

“Pete! Ryan’s running away!” Mikey yells out, and soon Pete comes bounding up the stairs to block Ryan. He tries to stop him, holding his hands out to his shoulders.

“Ryan! Stop running, it’s ok. We’re going to get you help.” He says out-of-breath, while Ryan struggles to scramble past him. Unfortunately, an underweight anorexic with energy that’s been sucked away for a long time is no match for an emo guitar player that’s actually the one person who likes gym class.

“Let me go!” Ryan cries, fumbling to push back Pete’s gentle hands. At least, as gentle as you can be when you’re trying to stop your extremely anxious friend from going and dying on the street. “Fuck off!”

“What the hell is going on here?” A door from down the hall swings open in the midst of it. “Oh my dear lord, you’re the missing kid! Mikey, why is Pete here at 1 AM? What the hell is going on?!”

Great, Gerard and Mikey’s mom is witnessing the ordeal.

“Mrs. Way!” Pete says as friendly as he can while him and Mikey hang onto Ryan, who looks like a deer in headlights at the sight of Mikey’s mom and is still trying to escape, even more fervently now. “It’s a funny story-”

“Gerard’s been hiding Ryan in the closet!” Mikey bursts out, interrupting him.

“Fuck off!” Ryan sobs. “Let me go!”

“Jesus Christ!” Mikey’s mother exclaims. “I thought this chaos would end when you weren’t _children_ , but hiding someone in the closet for weeks?! I’m calling the police!”

“No, we called them already.” Mikey says. Ryan’s struggle begins to subsist, as he lets himself collapse in their arms and cry profusely, and his entire body shakes with fierce sobs and wails that echo in the house. “And Spencer is coming, too.”

“You called _him_?” His mother demands. “Isn’t he the one that gave you weed when you were in sixth grade?”

“ _Mom._ ” Mikey hisses. “He’s _not_ a stoner anymore. Can we focus on Ryan?”

“Fine, but we’ll talk about this later.” She says in a firm tone, and immediately switches it to a kinder one to accommodate Ryan. “Ryan, do you want a sandwich while we wait? Ice cream?”

Ryan doesn’t respond, crying harder at the prospect of food.

“Get him downstairs, onto the couch.” She orders. “No, gentler than that, Pete! That better not be the way you handle my son when you’re in bed! Don’t make that face, Mikey, I know you’re both not as innocent as you pretend to be. I have to wash your clothes, you know! You need to start learning to use the washer, I don’t care that you started a fire when you were—” 

While Ryan is being laid onto the couch, there’s an urgent knock at the door. “It’s Spencer!”

“Spencer arriving sooner than the police?” Mikey’s mom says, and grumbles, “What’s wrong with the police department?”

“It’s unlocked!” Mikey calls out. Spencer cautiously opens the door, his eyes immediately focusing to Ryan, and running over to him.

“Ryan!” Spencer says. “Ryan! I’m so glad to see you, I’m so sorry man-”

“Go… a-away!” Ryan chokes out between breaths. “Get out! Fuck off!”

However, when Spencer doesn’t listen and asks if he wants a hug, Ryan nods his head for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well.... ryan's finally been caught, oof. 
> 
> Also it might be a bit longer than usual for the next chapter (sorry to leave you all hanging) since my classes are being busy rn with a bunch of tests and I'm simultaneously studying for the PSAT and working on art, but after the PSAT things should calm down a bit.
> 
> Also, I can't believe it's almost been a year since I thought of this fanfic. I came up with it originally around halloween (as evidenced by that it starts around halloween) so that's pretty crazy lol (and crazier i've had an ed longer than that)
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	19. She's Not Bleeding On The Ballroom Floor Just For The Attention

Brendon wakes up at 2 A.M. to a third bed being dragged into his room in the middle of the fucking night.

“What the hell?” He asks, squinting at the light.

“We’re getting a new patient.” Nurse Sandra says. “He’s a male, and there’s of course not another single male to room with in the ED ward and we don’t want him to be lonely in the _teenager’s ward,_ ” she says, saying ‘teenager’s ward’ the same way the other ED patients referred to it.

The ED ward, being made up of girls who thought of themselves as secretly superior for having control over food and having high beauty standards for themselves, they thought not-so-well of everyone else in the teenager’s ward. The kids with depression, anxiety, suicide attempts, and a variety of other issues under their belt.

And while the ED patients commonly did have some of those problems, there was some uniting factor in their ED status in having their own section that made them exchange looks in the halls or cafeteria after _those_ kids passed by while they were annoyed by their own nurses to take a shower or give up what they were trying to cut with this week. At first, Brendon had sympathized with them, but the ED ward superiority complex got to him soon enough, too.

“-so, we decided we would let him stay in your room.” Sandra finished. “It’ll be a bit more cramped than you’re used to, but we used to have 3 people to a room until _they_ expanded, so we’ll be okay.” Oh yeah, and the teenager’s ward was a shiny new extension to the hospital with cooler shit that the ED ward craved, and even the nurses admitted they were envious of the teenager’s ward’s breakroom.

“He’s coming in the middle of the night., though?” Zach asked.

“Well, it’s a tricky situation. It would be optimal if he wasn’t arriving at 2 A.M., but he can’t be trusted unsupervised right now.” Nurse Sandra sighed.

“What’s his name?” Brendon asked, a flicker of hope in him that maybe it could be Ryan.

“I know just as much as you do.” She shrugged. “But I sure hope that your boyfriend is him. Now go back to sleep.”

Sandra leaves, turning off the lights on her way out. As soon as the door is closed, Zach whispers, “Do you think it’s Ryan?”

“I don’t fucking know, fuck him.” Brendon rolls over in bed to face the plaster wall. “I don’t care about Ryan anymore. He’s a shithead.”

“For someone who hates him, you sure talk about him a lot.” Zach comments. “I mean, I hate a few people, and I don’t think about them much because I don’t like thinking about them.”

“Well, shitface, it’s a bit hard to just stop thinking about him when he’s all everyone ever talks about.” He sneers. “I bet you everyone in the suburbs couldn’t give a shit about me. After my fainting, Ryan just had to dramatically run away and distract them from it. Nobody cares, they all just want to fucking find Ryan. When I still had my phone in the normal hospital, all everyone blabbed on about on Snapchat was finding him. And I hope they do, so I can tell Ryan what a fucking asshole he is to his disgusting face.”

“Gay.” Zach teasingly whispers.

“You’re straight, you don’t even know what’s gay.”

“I mean, still sounds like you’re gay for Ryan to me. I’ve learned a lot from Sage.”

“Sage’s whole entire humor is based around her being gay, shut up. I’m trying to sleep so I actually have enough energy in this shithole to tell Ryan exactly what I think of him.”

“So you do think it is Ryan coming?”

“Fuck off. The only thing Ryan is coming in is Gerard’s ass.”

 

Ryan’s too tired and bleary-eyed to really process what’s happening. One minute he’s being questioned by police, the next his parents are hugging him desperately and crying, the next he’s at home with his mom packing a bag for the hospital while a police officer watches to make sure Ryan doesn’t try to pull anything off.

She buys him Starbucks. He drinks the Frappuccino and eats the breakfast sandwich, because it’s not like the hospital food will be better and he’s put his mom through enough tonight.

They drive downtown to the hospital, passing the rows of faded houses and the city honors school. Ryan’s phone is turned on, in his lap, and he knows he can’t bring it into the hospital. He reads through the multitudes of notifications, not bothering to tap on any of them. Gerard’s texting him, telling him he’s sorry. Telling him he shouldn’t have kept him there for so long. Telling him that he’s back with Frank. He only goes onto tumblr to make a post that he’ll be gone for a while because he’s been caught because everyone sucks. His tumblr isn’t much of a secret anymore, but he doesn’t care that everyone will see it. It’s the truth, after all.

They arrive at the hospital at sunrise. Ryan leaves half the Frappuccino and a quarter of the breakfast sandwich in the car. Maybe that’s progress.

Insurance forms. Questions.

“Have you ever had any suicidal thoughts?”

“How many calories do you usually eat per day?”

“When did your eating disorder start?”

They weigh him. They tsk, and Ryan’s mom has to lean against the wall when she hears the number. Ryan doesn’t have the capacity to smirk when he thinks about it anymore.

After a ton of tests, he says bye to his mother, which takes ten painstaking minutes, and is whisked away on a short tour of the ED ward. It’s crammed with rules as if he hasn’t read the papers his mom hastily printed out and made him skim over and over again in the waiting room. No bathrooms for 45 minutes after meals. Eat everything on your meal plan. Socialize. Do your best at recovery. Spill your hopes and dreams and skeletons in your closet to the therapist. No dating the other patients. No more than 2 cups of water an hour. Only one cup two hours before weigh-ins. If you can’t finish your meal, you have to drink a meal shake, so finish the damn meal. Don’t play with your food.

Finally, after lugging around the suitcase for thirty minutes, the nurse shows Ryan his room. There’s only two other males in the ED ward, so he’ll have to be shoved into a room with them. It’s probably a record high.

The lights flicker on. The guy in the bed on the right is a stranger, thank god. The guy on the left, meanwhile, is Brendon.

As Ryan sets down his suitcase and is told it’s two hours until breakfast, Brendon’s sleepy eyes shoot daggers at him before he falls asleep again.

It’ll be an interesting day, that’s for sure.

 

There’s a pounding knock on the door from a nurse. “Time to wake up, boys!”

Ryan presses his blanket deeper into him, not wanting to have to tune around and face Brendon Urie. He can hear the shuffle of clothing from suitcases, creaking of beds as Brendon and the other guy start their day.

“Hey, dude, you need to get up.” The other guy says to Ryan. “We have to be at breakfast on time or the nurses will give you shit.”

“Fine.” Ryan mumbles, rolling over and swinging his legs off of the bed onto the cold floor.

Brendon glances over at Ryan as he digs through his suitcase for an outfit. He’s emaciated since the last time he’s saw him; his legs are pencils and skin clings to bones like wet clothing. His brittle hair is dull and faded, the contrast of the skin under his eyes is prominent, and his lips are almost white. His fingernails are tinged with hints of blue, and the way his eyelids fall when he blinks seems weary.

His body in a picture would be thinspo; but a picture can’t convey the level of suffering and sickness he’s on by just one moment of stillness. It shows in the way he walks, lifts clothes with skeletal hands and weak fingers.

Brendon doesn’t want to feel sorry for him. He does, but he still remains silent and pissed.

 

Plates are set out in front of them.

It’s the biggest breakfast Ryan has eaten since… sometime.

3 sausages, 2 slices of toast, scrambled eggs, and mango, with a small bit on butter in a plastic container on the side. It doesn’t sound like very much in his thoughts; but the sausages are thick, the slices of toast are wide and foreboding, the scrambled eggs are in a huge intimidating heap, the mango slices are placed on the side in a large stack, and the butter… Ryan never uses butter anymore.

At least picking the drink is easier. He has to have water and either milk, orange juice, or apple juice. He picks the orange juice, since it’s probably the lowest calorie count.

The other patients seem to be doing fine eating their breakfasts. Ryan instead stares down at his, picking up his fork and eating the mango first.

“So, what’s your name?” One girl asks Ryan. She’s the girl who has a muffin on her plate instead of sausage.

It takes him a moment to realize she’s talking to him. “Oh, I’m Ryan.”

The guy he’s sharing a room with gasps. “Oh my god, you’re _Ryan_? Brendon talks about you all the time, holy shit! Beebo, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“It’s not that big of a deal, shithead.” Brendon shrugs, giving Ryan a glare and scraping his sausage with a knife to cut it.

“Language.” A distracted nurse in the corner scolds.

“It’s nice to see you again, Brendon.” Ryan replies instead.

“The entire school has heard you fucked Gerard.” Brendon hisses. “So quit the innocent act. We’re over.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know you fucked Gerard. And it’s your fault I’m here in the first place, honestly. You caused all of this. _Every single bit._ ”

Ryan gulps down his tears, eating another slice of mango and looking away.

“Uh…. so, I’m Zach.” The guy from his room says. “I’m a bulimic. I’m guessing you’re… an anorexic, right?”

Ryan knows he’s skinny, but not _that_ skinny. “I mean, I guess so.”

“I’m Aviva.” The girl with the muffin says. “Nice to meet you. I’m anorexic, too. It was so easy to get away with because I could just say everything isn’t kosher, ‘cause I’m Jewish, but my parents caught on.”

“I’m Sage. Bulimic as fuck.” The butch girl says. “I’m Aviva’s secret girlfriend.”

“You’re not that secret about it.” The girl with the vegan sausage says. “The staff just never gives a fuck about the rule as long as you’re not sneaking into Aviva’s room every night.”

“Okay, yea, whatever. Anyways, Ryan, you’re gay, right? Because Zach is the only straight guy here I’ve met.”

“He’s dating Brendon, of course he’s gay.” Vegan sausage girl says.

“ _Dated._ ” Brendon corrects.

“Well, I mean, I just wanna know if he’s gay or bi like Brendon or something.” Sage shrugs. “You don’t gotta tell us.”

“I’m gay.” Ryan says. He’s finished the mango. He takes a sip of his orange juice and a gulp of water. What else is lowest calorie next? Probably the toast. He picks up a piece and bites it.

“You need to put butter on it.” Aviva says. “Or they’ll make you put it on your eggs or eat it raw or something. The butter is part of your meal plan. They’ll give you a protein shake if you don’t eat the butter.”

“What she said.” The supervising nurse reading a book in the corner confirms.

“Fine.” Ryan says, taking the butter and spreading it on. It can’t possibly be _that_ much. Fifty calories, at most.Maybe. Or it could be filled with fat designed to pile on weight. Maybe double that. Triple.

The taste of the butter is slimy on his tongue. It’s a reminder he’s indulging too much. Butter is extra calories he doesn’t need.

“I’m Kohsoom.” The vegan muffin girl says. “I’m orthorexic. And vegan. I’m not actually orthorexic, I’m just healthier than everyone else.”

“You cried over dessert yesterday.” A girl with her hair up in a messy bun says. “Ice cream is great, and you had to ruin it.”

Ryan finishes the toast. Guilt creeps throughout his blood. Maybe he can get away with only eating a bit more. Shove it into your napkin. Drop it on the ground by accident. Spit it into your orange juice. It’s tempting, but he knows the consequences lashing out on him will be far more brutal. If he can figure out a trick that they’ve never seen before, maybe he can get away with eating less while getting out of there.

He picks up his fork again. The girl with the messy bun introduces herself as Olivia and anorexic. The girl with the crop top says she’s Cora and bulimic.

Conversation goes on and on, as Kohsoom keeps denying she’s orthorexic and that she needs help. Meanwhile, Brendon still sends Ryan chilling glares that make him shiver.

He finishes the eggs and sausage with much disappointment. Maybe lunch will be lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very excited that we're finally at the part where ryan is in the hospital!! I'm gonna love writing exploring him and Brendon's relationship and anorexia and stuff. I hope you don't mind that the ED patients are kinda more of original characters (except for Zach), mostly because I wanted some diversity and room to play around with their personalities to fit the plot. They're not going to be focused on a whole lot, so don't worry if you don't like them, cuz this is still 100% emo fanfiction.
> 
> Anyways, I just gotta say that I have 2 irl anorexic friends rn, and yes it's toxic as fuck omg. We don't encourage each other, but there's definitely some competition going on in our minds tbh. When I started this fanfic it was to explore what it would be like to have irl friends with eds and now I actually have some and it sucks. At least if we go to the hospital at the same time it won't be lonely. ok yea that's my short rant lol
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
> 
> (also trench is a huge bop and i love it)


	20. I'll Lose The Traits That Worry Me

There’s still a police car at the side of the road when Gerard’s car pulls out of the driveway to go pick up Frank for school. All morning, through glances from his window, he’s seen nosey soccer mom neighbors poke their heads out of the door and inquire to the police what all the ruckus is about. He doesn’t even know what to expect at school.

“Did you hear?” Frank asks Gerard, when he taps lightly on the driver’s window to roll it down. “There’s going to be an assembly today.”

“Thank god for shortened class schedule.” Gerard sighs in relief. “Get in, it’s almost winter. What’s the assembly about?”

Frank runs around the front of the car and hops in. “I don’t know.” He says, throwing his backpack into the backseat. “Probably another drug thing. Or it could be about Ryan. Do you think they found him dead?”

Gerard is silent. “Mikey found Ryan.” He finally says. “He’s in the hospital right now.”

“Oh my god, really?!” Frank demands. “Spill the tea, what happened?”

“Ryan was… hiding in my closet.” Gerard bit his lip. “I kept him in there. I just felt so awful for him…”

“What?” Frank asks. “You kept Ryan in your closet?”

“Yep.” Gerard starts up the car again. That was a mistake to mention.. “Let’s get to school.”

“Gerard, there’s gotta be more to it than that.” Frank interrupts.

“There isn’t.” He insists.

“I know the rumors… is it because… he was like you?”

“Like me in what way?” Gerard laughs nervously.

“Like… anorexic.”

Gerard stops backing out of the driveway, and his car pauses there suddenly. It’s almost as if he forgot. As if the constant calorie counting was normal. As if his weight loss was normal. As if Ryan’s eating disorder had validated his.

“No.” Gerard’s eyes widen. “Not at all! Haha, just felt bad for the guy.”

“You’re not still losing weight, are you?” Frank asks.

“No, everything’s fine. Let’s go to school.” Gerard states. “Wave bye to the house!”

“You’re acting weird. Stop dodging the question. Are you still anorexic?”

“Frank, if you keep questioning me any longer, it’ll be Christmas by the time we get out of the driveway.” Gerard says, his grip tightening around the wheel and then hissing, “We’re leaving.”

Frank nods in silence, and obliges. The car finally pulls out of the driveway, and as they’re on the road, Frank notices all the little indiscrepancies in Gerard’s shape. The bones sticking out of his hand. His thigh gap and ankles thinner than a pole hidden by his combat boots. His collarbones poking out the fabric of his shirt. This isn’t the Gerard he knows.

 

It’s an arts and crafts day this morning, so they sit around a table with scrap paper, piles of magazines from 2005, and blunt kid scissors. They’re supposed to be making collages.

Ryan takes a seat next to Aviva, since she’s probably been the nicest to him so far. Brendon glares at him from across the room, looking behind him every so often to make sure Ryan knows he’s not happy with him. Everytime Brendon looks over, Zach distracts him and then makes sure to give Ryan a sorrowful smile.

“Ryan, do you have any girls in skirts in your magazine?” Aviva asks.

Ryan pages through his Teen Vogue, and stops. “Here’s someone in a mini skirt.”

“Oh, no, I meant something longer. Like the skirts I wear.” She points to her red skirt that drapes over the chair, masking her knees.

“Oh, sure.” He flips through his magazine, and manages to find a picture of a model in a sweater and a maxi skirt. The model is extremely skinny; probably skinnier than Ryan. Her hair is thin, her collarbones hold up her skin from collapsing, and the sweater is far too wide for her tiny hands. He wishes he could keep the picture, but he cuts it out for Aviva to paste onto her collage. “How does that relate to ‘improving yourself’?”

“Oh, well, obviously everyone here expects that I should be making one about becoming healthier. But I like to rebel in lowkey ways; so I made one about being baalat teshuva. So that means I’ve been tznius, shomer Shabbat, davening, and keeping kosher. And I put two girls kissing on it because I’m gay.” She points to her collage.

Ryan didn’t understand anything she just said since he knows nothing about Judaism, but nods like he does. “Okay.”

“What’s yours about?” Sage, her secret girlfriend, asks.

Ryan glances back at his own collage. So far, it’s still a blank sheet of white construction paper. “I guess whatever I find. What’s yours?”

“Well, it’s obviously gay.” Sage holds up hers, which is filled with pride flags, a gay marriage, and Love, Simon movie ads. “I want to become gayer this year.”

“How do you become gayer?” Aviva asks.

“You become gayer.” Sage shrugs. “Here, Ryan, try the lime construction paper for your collage. Maybe it’ll be more inspiring.”

 

Spencer sits alone in the auditorium, towards the back. His 2 best friends are in the hospital, and Linda goes to another school, so it’s plain that his next few weeks of school will be dull. The projection screen has been pulled down on the stage, and a lady is talking to the principal, holding a thick binder in her hands.

Spencer settles for playing games on his phone while his peers filter in and sit in their grade’s designated section. The seats beside him remain empty as homeroom teachers scramble around, taking attendance of their scattered students. It’s really not an organized system; there’s three different areas for the large population of freshmen, not including the balcony.

As the lights begin to dim, two people rush in, apologizing to their homeroom teachers and then looking for empty seats.

“Can we sit here?”

Spencer looks up from the game on his phone, to see Frank and Gerard with coffee in hand and winter jackets draped on their shoulders and backpack straps. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

There’s a small clamor as Gerard and Frank ask Spencer to hold the coffee and try to figure out getting their jackets and backpacks off without hitting anyone in the face (which happens anyway). They sit down just as the projector lights up the stage, showing a Chromebook desktop.

“Thanks for holding the coffee.” Gerard thanks Spencer. “We’re late because we wanted Starbucks. And then Frank wanted to spike his frappuccino because he has the soul of a suburban soccer mom, so we drove back to his house to put some wine in it. You can take a few sips of my coffee if you want, for holding it so well. Not Frank’s, though, it’s really nasty.”

“It’s not nasty.” Frank hisses, taking a slurp through the green straw.

“Thanks, maybe just a sip. I’m pretty tired this morning.”

Gerard hands Spencer the coffee, as the lady talking to the principal earlier gets up onto the stage. She drops her binder onto the podium, making a loud sound that the microphone picks up. The Freshmen audience collectively giggles.

Spencer takes a sip of Gerard’s coffee, and presses his lips together tightly to keep himself from spitting it out. His eyes squint, and he swallows it, then hands the coffee back to Gerard. “That’s bitter.”

“I like black coffee.” Gerard shrugs.

Before Spencer can inquire further why any sane person would like black coffee, the presentation starts.

“Good morning.” The principal says. “Please take your seats and be quiet. Before the presentation, the police called us this morning and we’re happy to say that Ryan Ross has been found and is currently in the hospital.”

There’s silence at first, as everyone doesn’t know how to react. Someone starts clapping, and eventually it becomes a mix of claps and cheers. Spencer and Gerard are quiet.

“On an unrelated note, we have someone here to speak to you about the dangers of eating disorders.” The principal points to the woman at the podium. “Take it away.”

Spencer knows soon that Ryan has just been condemned to even stronger rumors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brendon be hatin ryan, frank be sippin that spiked frappe, and gerard be starvin 
> 
> sorry it's been a month! It's been very busy! And to add to it all, I started torah class and I'm visiting a college tomorrow aaaah. And my birthday is tomorrow!!! I'll be 17, so I can... finally see R movies without a guardian. Yep. Living that adult life. (please...US... just let me VOTE! My birthday is like a few days after elections and it's torture, but we know how voter suppression be) but I'm hyped maybe people will actually hire me now
> 
> ok ANYWAYS I'm planning on a few more chapters and hopefully this fanfic will be done, idk, we'll figure it out. I'll probably finish it during winter break, otherwise midterms will kill me from writing for a month. Also if any of you like Why Don't We, me and my friend just started planning a Jachary fanfic (she's a kinda famous jachary writer on wattpad so ;) ) but i can't promise anything yet
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	21. I Wasn't Born To Be A Skeleton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH it's been a while hasn't it??? Yeah sorry I was severely unmotivated this month but now that it's winter break and i can actually think about something other than school I finally got this chapter DONE!! yay!! Enjoy!

“Now, we’re going to be presenting our art to your fellow patients.” The art therapist says. “You will talk about what it means to you, and why you chose the pictures and words you did, etc. Any questions?”

“When is this over?” Cora, the girl wearing a crop top, asks. After breakfast, Ryan can see her bloated stomach and he can’t really understand why she would feel comfortable wearing that in front of the most judgemental eyes of anorexics. At least Aviva’s smart dressing tznius or whatever she calls it. Ryan should have packed more sweaters. Everyone has probably been whispering about how fat he is. Especially Brendon. He just _knows_ it.

“It’s over at the usual time. Anything else?”

“Is this graded?” Brendon shouts out.

“No, but I’m going to taking notes to show to your social worker and doctor.” She glares at Brendon. “So I hope I won’t see any clay on my computer. Who wants to present first?”

Kohsoom raises her hand and comes up to the front, then shows her poster to the group. It’s a collage of sea animals, cages, dolphins, and words like “cruelty” and “capitalism”.

“Not _again._ ” Sage whispers.

“My collage is about SeaWorld.” Kohsoom explains, displaying it for everyone to see. “SeaWorld exploits its animals, especially the whales, who don’t have enough room to live and swim in _circles_ for their entire life. They spend their unnaturally short lifespans trapped for the sake of your entertainment and to take your money!”

“Kohsoom,” the art therapist interrupts, “how does this correlate to improving yourself?”

“Why should I improve myself when these innocent whales are dying?!” Kohsoom says.

She starts shouting something in Thai, probably about whales with a lot of swear words mixed in. Ryan observes that by the look on everyone’s faces, this is just a normal part of the day.

“Kohsoom, we’re going to call a nurse to give you the pill or a shot if you don’t calm down.” The art therapist says exasperatedly, and that quiets Kohsoom down to going back to her seat and muttering things to Cora.

“Who would like to go next?”

Nobody raises their hand.

“Alright.” The art therapist marks down the lack of participation in her notes. “I’ll just pick someone. Ryan, would you like to come up?”

His gaze snaps up from studying the wood pattern of the table to stare at the art therapist. “No.”

“Ok, Brendon, how about you? Yours looks very… cluttered.”

“Sure.” Brendon stands up, and brings his collage to the front. His is filled with social media logos, pictures of best friends, pictures of couples, and words such as “toxic” and “breakup”. Ryan can clearly see where this is going.

“My collage is about distancing myself from those who are close to me but hurting me.” Brendon explains. “Specifically, a friend who encouraged me to get into _this_. The reason I’m here. And it only got worse when we started dating. It was so toxic, and I hope he knows he is a piece of _shit_.”

His gaze is fixed on Ryan the entire time, and before he can go on, the art therapist stands up to stop him.

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” She says. “You all can go on to your group therapy session.”

 

When the lights come back on after the presentation, Gerard is noticeably shaking. Not because the presenter discussed the consequences and mortality rates of an eating disorder, but because everyone now knows the symptoms of an eating disorder, and they’ll be analyzing him because, while he knows he’s still fat, he’s skinnier than most kids at the school.

It’s a frightening prospect.

Students start to be dismissed by row, and Frank grabs the strap of his backpack and looks over to Gerard.

“Hey, you okay after that?” He asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Gerard takes a final chug of his bitter black coffee, and reaches for his backpack. Spencer is distracted by his phone, unknowingly awaiting a call from Ryan or Brendon whenever they’re able to contact him during “relaxation hours”.

“Well, I just know you’re-”

“Shh!” Gerard hushes. “We can’t talk about that here!”

“Wanna skip first period, then?” Frank asks. “I stole some blank late passes the other day.”

“Well,” he mulls it over and then responds suggestively, “sounds a lot better than Pre-Calc.”

“See ya, Spence.” Frank bids farewell quickly, and grabs Gerard’s hand as their row is called. They exit quickly, making their way into the basement and to the art storage room. Nobody should be in there anytime soon this period, according to Gerard. There’s a substitute in place of one art teacher and the other teaches at the middle school, so he doesn’t arrive until noon.

Frank locks the door behind them, and they set down their backpacks onto the ugly orange tiled floor.

“So, um, we should really… talk about _this._ ” Frank says, taking a final sip of his spiked Frappuccino. “We didn’t get very far this morning, did we?”

“We got to school, that’s far enough.” Gerard jokes. Frank doesn’t laugh.

“Gerard, I’m worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to _be_ worried about.” Gerard assures. “Like, really, I eat. I eat a lot.”

“That’s what you always say, and look at yourself.” Frank says. “You’re gonna fucking collapse at any minute on those stick legs. Didn’t the presentation worry you at all? Didn’t keeping Ryan in your fucking _closet_ make you realize you were just as sick as him?”

“It made me worry some stupid conversation like this was gonna happen. I’m going to Pre-Calc.”

“No, we have to talk-”

“And I have to pass Pre-Calc.” Gerard shrugs his backpack over his shoulders. “See ya at lunch, Frank.”

“You’re fucking sick. You’re dying.” Frank cries. “You’re going to end up like Brendon and Ryan. In the damn hospital.”

Gerard opens the door, saying, “Sure, see you after school.”, and leaves in a flourish.

 

 

“Let’s welcome Ryan to the group today.” The therapist says.

“We already said hi to him.” One of the girls protests. Ryan doesn’t know which one, he’s busy looking at the carpet.

“Well, let’s all go around and introduce ourselves so he knows who we are.”

“He knows who we are.” Brendon states. “Can we get this over with already?”

The therapist throws a flower made of felt at him. “If you want to get this over with, you can be the first to talk after Ryan introduces himself. Ryan, go ahead.”

Ryan surveys the room, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. That’s not allowed, but it’s not like he’s gonna be smuggling drugs, anyways. The room is bleak, painted with a horrid egg yolk yellow. The carpeted floor has a large coffee stain on it. They all sit in a circle, on blue plastic chairs that are really too small for teenagers. It’s all the same people, with a two kids from the teenager’s ward. They don’t look that bad, but everyone from the ED ward has made sure to scooch their chair away from them as far as possible. Apparently nobody can handle a scar or two that goes beyond the reach of their sweater sleeves.

“I’m Ryan.” He says, looking back at the ground, away from the prying eyes. Brendon snorts.

“Anything else you’d like to tell us?” The therapist asks. Ryan shakes his head. Why is he even here? Because he was in a closet? That doesn’t mean he has an eating disorder. “Alright, tell us how your first day at the hospital has been.”

“Fine.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I said it’s fine, if you don’t count my ex-boyfriend laughing at me all day.” Ryan glares at Brendon.

“Well, I can’t help the fact it’s your fault I’m here in the first place and that you cheated on me with Gerard.”

“The sex I had with Gerard was better than the few times you weren’t too tired.” Ryan fires back. “You were going to break up with me as soon as you eventually would let it slip that it _is_ my fault and everyone would make you think I was less than human! Look, I’m right!”

“I told _nobody._ ” Brendon hisses. “Did you think I had fun thinking you were dying on the street when you really were fucking Gerard every minute when he wasn’t in school? How do you think Frank felt? How do you think Gerard felt? How do you think _I_ felt?”

“It’s not my fault Gerard wanted to, and he fucking loved it. And it seems like he did get back with Frank after abandoning me for the last few days to let me get caught and rot here, so I think everyone but me is doing just fine.”

“Ryan-” The therapist starts, but Brendon interjects.

“I have the flower!” Brendon shouts out, holding it up in the air as if it is a sword. The two teenagers ward kids look frightened, but everyone else is on the edge of their seats. “So everyone shut up and listen to me! If Ryan had never dared me to lose weight, if we never had made tumblr accounts, if we never befriended each other and later found out we were actually boyfriends in real life, I wouldn’t be here right now!”

“You think I chose to get an ED? You think I chose to act this wa-”

He is silenced by Brendon standing up and walking toward, looming over him. 

“I have the fucking flower!” Brendon screeches “And I say you’re a fucking son of a b-”

“That’s enough!” The therapist interrupts, finally getting up to snatch the flower from him. “I will call the nurse in here to get the pills to calm you down if I must, and it wouldn’t be the first. If you can’t talk this out next time the group meets in a calm, orderly, manner, I’ll make sure to take time of your recreational time for a session just for you two.”

Ryan and Brendon are both silent, and Brendon nods, going back to his seat silently. The therapist throws the flower to Olivia.

When it’s finally over, and everyone else has aired out their eating disorder baggage in a peaceful way, they head out of the room to lunch. Brendon taps on Ryan’s shoulder as they exit, and they stall in the hall. 

“What?” Ryan asks, turning around.

“I’m sorry for… _that._ ” Brendon apologizes. “Look, I think we should really talk to each other tonight. We’re here to recover, and that probably also includes recovering our friendship, so… talk it out after visiting hours? Our room, just the two of us? I promise Zach will be playing card games with everyone else, like usual.”

Ryan considers it for a second. “Yeah. Sure. I guess that’s okay.”

“Great.” For the first time, Brendon smiles without laughing at him, and presses a kiss to a cheek. “Because I’m gonna be honest, I really miss you. Like, _really._ ”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to date here.” Ryan smirks.

“That just makes it more fun.” Brendon shrugs. “So, you admit you want to still date me?”

“We’ll see where the talk leads.” Ryan says suggestively. “But until then, we’ll just have to pretend to hate each other for a while.”

“Okay, bitch.” Brendon says. Ryan giggles, pecking a kiss on his cheek, and then leaves to walk to lunch. Brendon leaves a few seconds later, making sure his steps aren’t too fast so he doesn’t walk in at the same time as him. Yet, the duration of lunch is filled with hands brushing against each other under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey hope you liked that!! it might seem a bit sudden that they're getting back together but idk trust me ok
> 
> Not much is happening in my life, pretty normal, my mom told the doctor the other day she thought I was too skinny but whatever i'm chill no dying anytime soon i swear
> 
> anyways i'm gonna try to update more regularly now, i can't promise much but i stg i will keep going until this fanfic is fucking finished so i hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Merry Christmas/Yule if you celebrate it!!


	22. You're Not Gonna Make It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa i'm sorry it's been so long! I was busy and I wanted to finish a fanfic for one of my series (which ended up being way longer than I though it would be) but here I am back at it because I am so determined to finish this. It doesn't feel like my best because I gotta get back into the groove with writing this (literally going from writing vampire and cheating angst to mental illness angst is kinda a big contrast), but next chapter should be easier.

“Name?” The security guard at the reception asks.

“Spencer Smith.”

“Who are you visiting?”

“Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross.”

He flips through the visitor lists, and begins to write Spencer’s name on a visitor pass. He tears the sticker off of the sheet and hands it to him, which Spencer places over his heart.

“Visiting room is just down that hall. Light blue door on your left.”

“Thanks.” Spencer says. He walks down the hallway, stopping at the light blue door and taking a deep breath before opening it. Inside, he tells the lady at a desk again who he is visiting and she repeats the names through a walkie-talkie, then tells him to sit down.

He sits at a table, scratched and covered in paint stains, on a plastic yellow chair. A few minutes later, Ryan and Brendon both walk out, glaring at each other dramatically.

“Hey!” Spencer says, springing up from his seat to hug them both at the same time. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good.” Ryan says, sitting down. Brendon sits down next to him, scooting his chair as far as possible to the wall and giving Ryan another unneeded glare. “How’s school? Have they… talked about us?”

Spencer clears his throat. He wasn’t expecting that to be brought up right away. “Let’s not speak about that.”

“No, let’s speak about that.” Unfortunately, he’s just accidentally intrigued Brendon. Ryan is also leaning forward in his seat and move his chair in the direction of Brendon, probably so he can hear Spencer better.

“Oh, well, this morning they had an assembly…”

“And?” Ryan asks, taking his hand off of the table. Brendon also takes his hand off of the table to scratch his knee, and lets it lay there.

“Well, it was about eating disorders, and it was just after they announced you had been found.” Spencer presses his lips together tightly, trying to gauge the pair’s reactions. Ryan glances down at his lap for a second and then back at Spencer. “So… as you can imagine, that did get people talking.”

“Oh my _god._ ” Ryan lays his head down on the table, nose squished against a violet splotch of dried paint. In a muffled voice, he says, “They’re all going to fucking know I have an eating disorder.”

“I’m sorry.” Spencer sympathizes, and he really does feel terrible about it. He waits for Brendon to mutter that Ryan deserved it, but there was just silence as Ryan groans and bangs the table with the fist that is on the table.

“Sue them… ?” Brendon finally says. He looks quite like a deer in headlights, confused and his forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows are raised, wondering what he should say. In fact, his suggestion sounded more like a question than a firm statement. Brendon’s eyes flicker between Ryan and Spencer, trying to see if he said the right thing, but then he takes to gazing at a hole in the ceiling so as to be more nonchalant.

Spencer is a little puzzled by Brendon’s weird uneasiness, so he nods once and says, “Ok?”

Ryan gives Brendon a glare, and Brendon raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders as if to say _“Sorry, what do you want me to fucking do?”_. Ryan quietly sighs in some response, and Brendon’s arm moves to the side. Spencer watched all of this in further befuddlement, trying to decipher the silent interaction between them. He promised himself he wouldn’t be this clueless since he had almost ignored every symptom of their eating disorders, and yet he still doesn’t know what’s going on.

Suddenly, Spencer ducks his head under the table to see Brendon’s hand on Ryan’s knee, and Ryan’s hand on that hand. They quickly move their hands away, exclaiming, “Spencer! Stop it!”, and Spencer comes back up to see their petrified faces.

“You’re dating again, aren’t you?” He whispers to the couple, although he already knows the answer. “Ryan hasn’t even been here 24 hours and you’re literally back to fucking like nothing happened?”

“Shush, they don’t allow dating here.” Brendon scolds him, motioning to the other room where the lady at the desk is sitting to check visitors in. “Everyone does it, anyway. It’s fine.”

“Sage and Aviva are secretly dating.” Ryan adds in a hushed voice. “It’s not like they’ll kill us.”

“But your relationship was…” Spencer violently motions his open palms toward them with his eyes widened, and Brendon and Ryan sigh in unison.

“We’re mature, Spence, we know what we’re doing.” Ryan says, a shadow of contempt in his voice.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but last night you were caught staying in Gerard’s damn closet like you had for weeks. So, let me reword: are you sure you can handle a relationship in which you both inadvertently encouraged each other’s eating disorders to the point where you are literally in a fucking hospital?”

Brendon does seem to start to be considering the words said, but Ryan rolls his eyes and grabs Brendon’s hand to grip it tight. “Really, Spence, it’s none of your business, for fuck’s sake. Just don’t tell anyone.”

“If that’s your decision, I can’t stop you.” Spencer says defeatedly.

For the next five minutes, it’s another awkward silence. Spencer hurriedly taps on the table.

“I want a capri-sun.” Brendon suddenly says. “I think my grandma is coming. If she’s bringing me another fucking bible, she better at least bring a capri-sun with it.”

“Christ, Brendon, if you want a capri-sun so bad I’ll bring you some tomorrow.” Spencer exclaims. “Well, nice seeing you two being as fucking _stupid_ as you were before. I have homework to do, so bye.”

With that, Spencer storms out of the room to sign himself out. Ryan and Brendon don’t bother to go after him, instead they go back into the door to the ED ward and linger in the hall.

“Ryan, are you sure this relationship is what we need right now?” Brendon asks. “What if… it is unhealthy?”

“Don’t listen to Spencer, he’s probably getting high in the parking lot right now or telling someone to plan a party so he can get blackout drunk. He’s no better than us, and we’re not telling him to break up with Linda.” Ryan assures him, gently stroking the palm of Brendon’s hand with his soft thumb. “He knows nothing about eating disorders. We do. We can control it, we’re mature enough to keep it out of our lives. Kiss me. I literally want you to shove your goddamn tongue down my throat as soon as we’re alone in our room, and then we can tell Spencer how fucking great it was when… _if_ he visits tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Brendon gives him a quick kiss on the lips, and they walk back to the recreation room in silence to wait until visiting hours are over so they can go back to their room and be hormonal teenagers.

 

“I want an explanation.” Gerard’s mother says as soon as he arrives home. He could have come home right after school like his mother told him, but he also wanted to fuck Frank before he got grounded… so he turned around halfway on the way home, pulled into a Methodist church parking lot, and called Frank to tell him he was on his way to his house because he wanted him to fuck him really, really, really hard.

Gerard hasn’t even gotten through the doorway, he’s still holding his keys and his hair is still dusted lightly in snow. Hopefully it’s all snow, if one white bit doesn’t melt he’ll be in even more trouble.

“Give me a second.” Gerard answers. “I got to put away my coat and do my homework and-”

“Sit down at the dining room table.” She says firmly, with no room for ifs, ands, or buts. “You’re going to tell me the entire truth. You’re lucky I didn’t make you stay home from school today.”

Gerard throws his coat at the kitchen wall and lets his backpack drop to the ground with a loud thump. He peels off his gloves, and throws them at the same spot as his coat. With agonizingly slow steps, he takes an entire minute to reach the kitchen table.

“Mikey said he noticed you’re relapsing.” She says as soon as he sits down.

“I’m not, Mom. Really.” Gerard jumps into defense mode, and tries to act non-suspiciously by acting calm, like he knows he is _totally_ telling the _entire truth_. “Mikey doesn’t notice shit. He’s always fucking Pete.”

“Mikey cares about you, regardless.” His mother says. “Were you letting Ryan stay in your closet because you were like him, despite fully knowing the consequences, especially the potentially legal consequences?”

Yes, Mom.” Gerard groans. “I _know._ ” He crosses his legs, and positions his hands to lay flat on the table.

“I don’t think you’re well.” His mother states. “How much weight have you lost?”

“I didn’t lose any weight, Mom.”

“How _much?_ ”

Gerard scuffs his sneaker against the hardwood floor and avoids eye contact. “None.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She hisses. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me right now. _How much weight have you lost?_ ”

Gerard doesn’t say anything. He does look up to stare at her directly in the eyes defiantly, to pretend like he is absolutely confident he has nothing to hide.

“We’re worried about you, Gerard. The last time you got this sick…”

“Jesus, Mom. Say it. Say you think I’m an _anorexic._ Say you think I’m more than sick, but an _anorexic._ Say it with the exact same hiss you did last time, say it like you’re disappointed in me, because I know you are. Your eldest son, the one who you always brag about eventually getting into RISD or Pratt or something, you think he’s _dying._ Just say it, Mom.”

“We care about you, honey.” She says. “And now that therapy hasn’t worked, I don’t know what to do…”

“I’m fine.”

“You want me to say it? You’re a goddamn anorexic. Go to the bathroom and get on the fucking scale. At your last doctor’s appointment, you had gained ten pounds, and I know you’ve lost that and more.” Her voice is trembling, and a tear spills from her eye. “Scale. Now.”

Gerard isn’t even trying to walk slowly to annoy anyone anymore, but the stairs feel like he’s climbing Mount Everest. All of a sudden, it’s a long stretch to get to the top and his legs ache by the end.

He doesn’t get to the scale. It’s possibly the worst time to pass out, but he can’t keep his knees straight anyway. The ground flies to him, and his mother is screaming for Mikey. He’s conscious again after a few seconds, so nobody has to call 911, but it’s the ultimate, final proof that his mother needs to schedule a screening at the mental hospital for him to determine whether he needed to be checked in.

Mikey hands him an ice pack as his mother searches upstairs for his social security number. “Does your head hurt?”

Gerard throws the ice pack across the room as hard as he can hurl it, which ends up being an impressive distance of 5 feet since he just was on the ground.

“I’m fine.” He persists through clenched teeth. “I’m not Brendon, I didn’t pass out on a treadmill. I’m not Ryan, I didn’t stay in a closet for weeks so I could keep starving.”

“You passed out after walking up the stairs. You were the one who let Ryan stay in your closet.” Mikey goes to pick up the ice pack, and places it on the side table. He hands Gerard a glass of water. “But you need help.”

Gerard slaps away the glass of water. It shatters all over the water, the bits of glass floating across the rug in the little pool of water. “Mikey, leave me the fuck alone. This is your fault. All your goddamn fault, and maybe if you didn’t fuck your boyfriend all the time, you would wake up from your sex-induced high and realize you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Yeah, literally shoot me in the head for not wanting you to fucking die!” Mikey screams back at him, stepping over the glass carefully to get supplies to clean up the spill. “Do you think I want to look in your coffin only 2 months from now to see a fucking skeleton? Would you want to see that happen to me, to let it happen to your own _brother_ when you knew you could have tried to do something?”

“Go away!” Gerard cries. “Just fuck off and let me die! Maybe it would be better than being fucking fat whenever I look in the mirror! Maybe it would be better than all of you incessantly watching me all the time to comment on how terrible and poor and sick I look!”

By then, Mikey is in the kitchen, so he can’t see his reaction. By the silence alone, it can’t be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, drama went down in this chapter, didn't it? So, as I said, I was finishing another fanfic so that was taking up most of my writing time, and I was also trying pretty hard not to relapse (not that this fanfic makes me relapse it's a coping mechanism) but then I relapsed so I got inspired to spill out some feelings I'll have again eventually.
> 
> Right now, I'm planning to end this fanfic before 30 chapters? Then again, I thought this would only get to 15 chapters max and here we are at 22. Even I'm not sure completely how to end this yet, so it's a surprise to all of us I suppose. But it should be over soon, and I won't take a month to update again, I swear.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope all of you are happy and healthy and if not then that you're working toward it!

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this chapter was kinda short, but the chapters do get longer as the story progresses so yayyy for that?
> 
> also, i've got like 6 chapters prewritten so far (which is like about 1/3 through the fanfic i think), so you can expect consistent updates to this fanfic about every week while I try to finish up my other fanfics that are on ao3
> 
> hope you like the story and the chapters to come :)


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